


Epidemic

by 2_Ava



Category: Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018), Queen (Band)
Genre: HIV/AIDS, I don’t have the patience to write five years worth of content, I'm Sorry, I've gone through and edited soooo many mistakes, It hasn't been, I’m sorry, M/M, Period-Typical Homophobia, Please excuse this returning to your recently updated feed, There’s going to be mega time skips, had to get it out, poor Deaky, this is a bit intense
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-26
Updated: 2019-02-04
Packaged: 2019-09-27 21:15:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 15
Words: 31,302
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17169521
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/2_Ava/pseuds/2_Ava
Summary: Just weeks after Freddie receives an incurable diagnosis, he urges his friends to get tested. They almost wish he hadn’t.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So, I know this is quite dark, but it has been in my mind for so long and I just had to get it out. Considering the epidemic it was, it’s something quite plausible. Obviously, none of these ships are genuine - just something based on all the other creative fics in the fandom x

**April 28th, 1987**

“It’s alright; it’s alright... it’s alright.” Roger muttered; if it was to anyone but himself, it certainly wasn’t obvious. “It’s alright.” He continued methodically. His tone was light and questionably positive, as if he was trying to will himself to believe his words. Brian watched him sadly, trying his best to hide the pain in his face; but, being a man of facts and reason, he was unable to lie to himself as his blonde-haired lover was clearly attempting. “It’s alright.” Roger said louder, trying to force confidence into his voice as he turned to Brian. Brian gave him a weak nod and tried his best to smile at the smaller man, but the upheaval in his stomach as he saw the tears in the mans eyes was making it harder and harder to maintain any morsel of positivity. “Right?” Roger almost squeaked, his voice quivering as he directed his query to Brian. Brian looked at his pacing and shaky boyfriend from his spot on the bed and let out an inaudible sigh. He hated lying to Roger; and Roger hated when Brian lied to him about things like this. He said it made him feel stupid by comparison; but, the idea of revealing to Roger the grim truth and cementing such a tragic reality, wasn’t something Brian thought he could bear. 

“I... I don’t know, Rog.” He semi-whispered, unsure how to answer in a way that wouldn’t send Roger into hysterics. He stared at him in silence for what was clearly too long, because Roger was soon flopping dramatically (which in such a situation as this could be easily excused as not dramatic without reason) onto the bed, landing on his stomach and throwing his head into his hands. 

“Fuck!” Roger exclaimed, squeezing his eyes tight to try and ensure that no tears could escape. Brian frowned deeply and rolled onto his side beside his boyfriend to reach his arms out and carefully wrap him in a hug. 

“Roggie... baby. We’ll figure it out.” He said softly; there was one of those lies that he hated telling Roger. But, he figured in his current state, Roger mightn’t mind too much. It seemed as if this was all Roger needed to be sent completely over the edge. He started to cry... hard. Brian felt his body shaking with every sob and Brian’s heart was breaking. He pulled Roger in tightly, running delicate fingers through his hair and whispered gentle nothings to him in an attempt to get him to breathe normally for just a moment. 

“H-how...” Roger began, the crack in his voice making it clear that his throat was dry. “How are you not freaking out?” He whispered, slowly rolling over to look up at Brian. 

“I am.” Brian whispered in return, his confession to Roger being the first moment he’d actually reflected on the news they received earlier that day. 

_  
“I have it.” Freddie said softly, glancing at his three band mates. They all knew exactly what he meant. It was all anyone talked about on the television or radio, and you would have had to have been living under a rock to not know what “it” was. The three men had been devastated, of course. But, they would have been lying had they said they were shocked. Tabloids and ill-aware publications had already produced speculation, and the boy’s were beginning to become concerned with Freddie’s behaviours of the sexual sense. Still, it didn’t soften the blow - not by even the tiniest of bits. Their band mate - their best friend, despite being the most untouchable of characters on stage, had succumb to the epidemic claiming more and more lives as the days went on. That day, they practiced in almost silence. Despite Freddie’s reassurances that nothing would change, the band had been hit with what felt like a truck. After rehearsals, the four men sat in the corner of a quiet bar, not as silent as earlier that day, but still uncomfortably so._

_“I’m going to get another round.” John finally spoke up, after a silence he deemed too long. The three other band member simply nodded as he pushed himself up from the booth and scurried quickly towards the bar; clearly wanting to remove himself from the unease that radiated from the corner they resided in._

_“You know...” Freddie began, placing down his glass and shifting to sit more formally as his looked between Roger and Brian. “You two should get tested.” He said softly. If the silence had been uncomfortable before, it was now just unbearable._

_“W-what?” Roger said quietly, barely above a whisper. Brian let out a shaky breath as his locked eyes with Freddie._

_“You’re not invincible, Roger.” Freddie uttered, without his usually sardonic tone, likely given the circumstance. “Given your sexual activity... it would be wise.” He said softly, knowing Roger’s old ways were an uncomfortable subject for the couple. Brian shifted uncomfortably, and Roger tensed up._

_“What are you implying?” Roger grunted. Brian could see exactly where Freddie was coming from; it was a place of concern for his friend, and truly nothing more. But, knowing Roger far too well, Brian knew exactly how he was hearing it. Roger had slept around - fact. Brian was a virgin before he and Roger got together - fact. If they had something, it would have been Roger’s fault - almost undeniable. Freddie had a point in getting tested, and Brian wouldn’t blame Roger if that was the case._

And he didn’t. Not one bit. No where in the last several hours was there a single part of Brian that wanted to or was blaming Roger. Not when they were they were being tested, or waiting nervously for the results; not when the doctor was grimly telling them the outcome, nor during the uncomfortably silent drive home. Not even now, that they had plenty of time to sit with the man’s words. 

_  
“I’m sorry, Mr. Taylor; but, you have AIDS...”_

_“Mr. May; we regret to inform you that you have been diagnosed with HIV.”_

He didn’t blame him. But, it was clear Roger blamed himself. Brian glanced down at the blonde, who was staring teary-eyed up at him. He let out as much of a grin as he could muster, but he felt as if it was no more than a mouth twitch. Brian reached down and gently wiped a running tear from  
Roger’s face. 

“What do we do?” Roger finally uttered, the evidence of great fear in his voice. Brian let out a gentle sigh and averted his eyes from Roger’s. Questions of the like we’re something Roger regularly asked Brian, finding comfort in the older mans impressive intelligence; and, because he usually had a well-thought-out and logical answer that instantly brought calm to Roger’s frequently manic states. Except, this time, Brian really didn’t know what to do. This was a situation he didn’t think a simple ponder could fix. Foremost, they weren’t out to anyone except John and Freddie; and, considering the rampant homophobia that was only increasing with the spread of this pandemic, Brian didn’t consider now to be a good time to divulge their love lives to the world. 

“I’m not sure, Rog.” He said honestly, trying to hide the gentle quiver in his voice. “But, don’t work yourself up about it. I know that’s hard. But you just have to trust me, yeah?” He said carefully, moving his hand to run his fingers through Roger’s hair. Roger nodded weakly. 

“Mm-okay.” He hummed, pulling away from Brian slightly. “I think I’m gonna have a shower...” he muttered, slowly pushing himself off the bed and mindlessly walking towards the bathroom. As he left for the other room, Brian huffed loudly and scootched to the top of the bed to lean against the headboard. Brian might not have blamed Roger, but there was a part of him that blamed himself. Brian had noticed that Roger was looking thinner. But - as per usual - he bit his tongue to avoid worrying him. It wasn’t that Brian hadn’t pondered what it might be; similar symptoms were leading to the mystery killer every day. Brian didn’t avoid discussing it with Roger in an attempt to keep it from him, but rather to savour further moments with him; untouched by the misery he had seen the disease place on so many of their friends. So, when Freddie brought it up, Brian was both relieved and panicked. He thought it better the suggestion come from Freddie than Brian - from Freddie, it could have been taken as a simple jab at Roger. From Brian, Roger would have known it was serious. On the other hand, Brian was worried about Freddie’s suggestion, because deep down, he knew such a suggestion was a death sentence. He knew saying something sooner wouldn’t have changed things. By time he noticed; it was already too far gone. No rush to the hospital would reverse the incurable. But now, such apprehension in talking to Roger was eating away at him. Not only because his best friend and soulmate and been handed what was quite literally his death notice, but because Brian himself, had not. He may have gotten HIV, but he didn’t have AIDS which, like the doctor had said just hours earlier, was “something”. It wasn’t his fault, but he felt so undeniably guilt about it. As dramatic as it sounded, he would have traded places with Roger in an instant. Sweet and precious Roger, who despite putting on a harsh and lackadaisical front, was quite truly an innocent and sensitive soul. He heard the shower running and thought about whether he should call Freddie. He wasn’t sure if such a desire was to simply tell him, or to desperately cling to the hope that Freddie would know what to do. He breathed a gently sigh and went to go pick up the phone.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brian tells Freddie the news, and vows to honour his suggestions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone for the feedback; it’s always appreciated. If anyone has any suggestions, I would love to here them! x

“Fred...” the raspy voice spoke softly, the sound of distant showering in the background. 

“Brian! Darling; how are you?” Freddie sung through the phone. Brian immediately let out a hefty sigh. In any other situation, on any other day, Freddie’s sing-song greeting would have made his day. But today, he wasn’t sure anything could place even the slightest of smiles on his face. “Brian?” Freddie repeated, after he deemed the silence far too long.

“Oh. Sorry, Fred.” Brian muttered, being pulled from his haze. He didn’t know how to break it to Freddie - like how they had all somewhat expected Freddie’s diagnosis, Brian thought maybe Freddie had expected it himself. But did Freddie expect this? Two of dearest friends facing a similar fate? He swallowed thickly, unable to will the words from his throat. 

“Brian... dear?” Freddie questioned, more delicately now than before. “What’s going on?” He said softly, his rich voice melodically dancing over the words, and in some strange twist of all reasonable fate, Brian felt calmer. So calm he felt the words practically burst from his lips. 

“He has it.” He choked, spluttering as the words shot from his mouth. He couldn’t take them back now. 

“Whatever do you mean, darling?” Freddie said slowly. Brian inhaled deeply and exhaled quickly, his eyes darting around the room in an attempt to focus them on anything other than producing tears. 

“Roger... h-he has it.” He stuttered. “He has...” he trailed off, and as if telepathically, he knew Freddie knew what he meant. The silence over the phone line was deafening. The moments dragged on and Brian began to get more nervous. His hands were clammy and his top lip was damp. “Fred...” he muttered, hoping to just received some sort of response from Freddie; he needed Freddie to bring him back down to earth. 

“Oh, Brian...” was all Freddie could muster. Brian heard the shuffling through the phone as Freddie cleared his dry throat. “He looked thinner...” he finally admitted. Brian let out a shaky sigh, feeling perhaps even the tiniest morsel better for not being the only one to notice and not say anything. “And you?” Freddie added, a little louder, as if the result of the dots connecting in his head.

“I-umm... I’m okay...” he whispered, almost embarrassed to say it, when Freddie and Roger were suffering.

“But how?” Freddie questioned. Brian let out a shaky sigh. 

“I have... it’s not-“ he mumbled. Sensing his discomfort, Freddie cut him off, clearly understanding what his bandmate was getting at. 

“Well...” Freddie muttered. “That’s something...” he whispered. Why did everyone keep saying that? ‘Something’. Like it was better than having ‘it’. It was coming to a point for Brian that if two of his best friends were going down, he’d rather go with them than watch. He sighed heavily and mentally cursed at himself. He knew without a doubt in his mind that neither Freddie nor Roger were sitting with such negative mindsets, and they were far worse off. “You’re going to be fine, Brian. Congratulations.” Freddie said softly. Brian tried to find a hint of malice, or a condescending tone that wasn’t unusual for Fred. But, there was nothing. He appeared to be very genuinely congratulating Brian for not being in the same godforsaken situation that he and Roger had gotten themselves into; and that only made Brian feel worse. He was the lucky one... and he needed to start being grateful for that. 

“What do we do?” Brian whispered, his voice even shakier now. Freddie let out a gentle sigh, and Brian could sense the frown on his face. 

“Bri, dear... I can assure that if I knew I would tell you.” Freddie said softly. “For now... we will live on as normal. Like I said, nothing changes. No whining or bitching or tears.” He stated commandingly. Brian nodded, despite Freddie not being able to see through the phone, it appeared he sensed Brian’s acknowledgement, as he continued. “You love Roger, yes?” Freddie asked, his tone now much more gentle. 

“More than anything.” Brian whispered, a hint of sadness in his voice as he directed his attention to the bathroom, thinking of the man behind the closed door. 

“Good. Continue loving him... more than you’ve ever loved him.” Freddie said, a triumphant grin evident in his voice. Brian couldn’t help but grin also, at Freddie’s grandiose tone. “Brian?” Freddie said lowly, his voice much softer now. 

“Yes, Fred?” Brian said quietly, holding back tears like his life depended on it. 

“Love him, now; enough for all the years you won’t be able to.” He whispered in the gentlest tone Brian has ever heard Freddie speak. Brian felt his breath get caught in his throat at Freddie’s words. 

“Yes, Fred.” Brian repeated, now just to confirm he understood. He felt the tears spilling from his eyes, and he hoped he was crying softly enough to hide his tears from Freddie. Freddie let Brian sob silently for a little while, not trying to interject or stop him. Brian ran a tear-soaked hand through his very messy curls. Hearing the bathroom door open, he lifted his head gently. Roger stood, enveloped in the towel. His hair was wet and his face was beet red, making it clear he had continued to cry in the shower. 

“W-who’s on the phone?” Roger asked, his voice hoarse and croaky.

“Freddie...” Brian said softly. Roger let out a hefty sigh, and Brian couldn’t work out if it was one on relief or panic. 

“We’ll talk later, dear.” Echoed through the phone and into Brian’s was before the dial tone rang out. Brian carefully put the phone down, not caring to place it back on the hook. 

“Come here, my love.” He whispered, reaching his arms out to Roger. Roger - without hesitation - floated into Brian’s arms. 

“I’m sorry...” Roger whispered, his face buried in Brian’s neck. 

“Absolutely not.” Brian whispered, running his long fingers through Roger’s hair. “None of that.” He added, laying them down on the bed. Roger parted his lips to likely talk back, but Brian simply let out a small grunt as a sign to stop fighting him. “I love you, Roger.” He muttered. 

“I love you t-too.” Roger hiccuped, adjusting to get comfortable on Brian’s body. “Promise you’ll still love when I get really sick?” Roger said meekly. Brian couldn’t help but let out a light chuckle. 

“Rog... I’m going to love you forever.” He whispered confidently, placing a gentle kiss on Roger’s forehead, as the younger mans eyes fluttered closed. 

He meant it. He was gonna honour Freddie’s word. He was going to love Roger enough to make up for their impending lost time... and then some.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brian is woken by the panic of his friends - and Freddie continues to tell him what he doesn’t want to hear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wasn’t going to post this chapter just yet, but I thought I’d leave you all with it considering I won’t post the fourth part for a few days. Let me know what you think! I love reading your comments - it makes my day. If you have any suggestions or recommendations/requests, I’d love to here them x

Brian was jolted awake by the sound of hysterical banging coming from another room in the house. At some point in the night, Roger had rolled off of Brian to lay closely beside him, still cocooned in his towel. Brian rolled off the bed until his feet touched the ground. Sliding on his slippers, he went out into the living room and towards the front door. He grasped the handle, and as the door came towards him, so did bodies - John and Freddie’s to be exact. They both staggered in the room, looking furiously sweaty and panicked. 

“Why aren’t you answering your phone?!” John practically yelled. In any other circumstance, Brian would have retorted his bandmates’ hysteria with some sort of sass; but, given the looks of sheer panic and fear on their faces, he just felt bad. 

“It-it wasn’t ringing...” Brian mumbled, glancing between the two of them. He looked back towards the bedroom and realised he hasn’t placed it back on the hook. “I forgot to... sorry.” He mumbled, figuring they didn’t need his excuse - just to know he felt bad about it. 

“Where’s Roger?” Freddie said softly, his eyes focused on John rather than Brian. Brian looked at John, whose eyes were trained on the open bedroom door, his fingers finding each other as he fiddled mindlessly. 

“He’s asleep...” Brian said softly, looking from John to Freddie. He could see it in the soft, sad look that Freddie was giving John; and even more so in the painfully indescribable look on John’s face. John knew. Clearly, somewhere in the space of Brian and Roger falling asleep and Freddie and John sending themselves into hysteria, Freddie had told John. Brian watched the younger man, his eyes still searching for Roger in the dark room. Suddenly, as if somehow possible, he felt even worse. Not for himself, but for John. Sweet and innocent Deaky. Deaky, who just wanted the best for everyone; and, who didn’t argue unless it was absolutely necessary - unlike the rest of them. Deaky, who joined Queen, barely out of teenagehood, and had spent most of his life doing only this, was watching it all fall apart in front of him. Brian had spent all this time moping about his own woes and self-pity, without even considering how this was going to affect John. Brian watched the younger man, until he couldn’t bear to any longer. “You can go in there, Deaky.” Brian whispered, a sweet, but less-than-confident smile on his face. “He’s asleep, but, I’m sure he won’t mind.” Brian said softly. 

“I-I...” John muttered, as if searching for some sort of explanation. Unable to find it, he turned away from the men and walked quickly into the bedroom. 

“You told him?” Brian asked, turning his attention from John to Freddie. 

“I had to.” Freddie answered quickly. “I couldn’t just call him at four in the morning in a panic without explaining why.” He reasoned. “I’m sorry...” he added, likely knowing how annoyed he would have been had one of the boys done that to him. 

“It’s fine, Fred.” Brian said, genuinely. “I honestly don’t think Roger wants to have to tell anyone.” Brian said softly, looking down to eye Freddie, realising what he’d said. “I mean- not that it’s bad-“ He stammered, trying to rectify his comment. 

“Oh, shut up!” Freddie chuckled gently. “Not everyone is as foolhardy and valiant as I am, darling!” He teased, lightly smacking Brian’s arm. “Tea?” He questioned, already moving into the kitchen. 

“Tea? Freddie; it’s four in the morning!” Brian said, following him regardless. 

“Yes... but, if someone would have answered their phone, we wouldn’t standing in someone’s apartment at four in the morning; would we?” Freddie smirked, clearly trying - and succeeding - to make Brian feel guilty. Brian just sighed reluctantly and grabbed out cups to begin making them tea. The two men stood in silence as they made their tea. It certainly wasn’t uncomfortable - if anything, it was welcome, and peaceful. It seemed to be exactly what they both needed right now. In equally fitting silence, they moved to the small dining table, sitting down and looking blankly at each other. “What’s on your mind, dear?” Freddie finally spoke, breaking the emptiness. If only Brian could actually voice everything that was on his mind at that point. He felt like his thoughts were a million comets shooting in every which way, so much so that he couldn’t possibly focus on one thought without another getting in the way. He simply sighed and dropped his eyes from Freddie to his tea. 

“I don’t even know...” he whispered. Freddie let out a caring sigh and reaches his hand out to hold Brian’s. Brian’s eyes met Freddie’s and he had to force himself not to cry again. Why was it that Freddie, of all people in all situations, was the one comforting Brian, when he - as of right now - had the rest of his long life ahead of him? He felt like a real asshole for having to be comforted; but, at the same time, he couldn’t muster the positivity to do much else if he tried. 

“Brian...” Freddie whispered. Brian’s eyes darted up to him. “Talk to me, darling.” He said softly, something in his voice sounded desperate; and it made Brian feel even worse than before. 

“I just... I just don’t know what to do.” Brian said, frustratedly. “I know there’s nothing I can do to fix it... but am I supposed to just sit around and watch?” He grunted. Freddie let out a small chuckle, and Brian looked at him with a confused expression. 

“What else would you like to do?” Freddie questioned, a smirk on his face. “Go to medical school for years to find a cure for this godforsaken disease? You’re good, Mr Brian May; but, you’re not that good. Whether you want to hear it or not, Roger hasn’t got forever. In fact, he’s got very little time at all. And, if you spend all that time worrying about how to fix this or reverse that. Well, be damned if you’ll have any time left to spend with your dying boyfriend.” He exclaimed. That word cut through Brian like he was made of butter. Dying. Why did Freddie have to use that word? And then it dawned on him - because sadly, he was right. There was no point wasting the years the band had left trying to turn back time and fix everything. 

“I don’t want to say you’re right...” Brian mumbled, a slight smile on his face. 

“But when am I ever wrong, so go on, darling.” Freddie teased, taking a sip on his tea. Brian chuckled and did the same. He placed his cup on the saucer and sighed roughly. 

“But, what about Deaky-“ he began, before Freddie quickly cut him off. 

“I’ll worry about Deaky. You focus on Roger.” He said bluntly. “And when all’s been said and done...” he said quietly. “We’ll swap.” He stated carefully. “You keep Deaky safe here, and I’ll make sure Roger doesn’t make too much of a mess...” he trailed off, a smirk on his face. “I want to say ‘up there’, but god knows we’ll be playing the hits beneath your feet.” He chuckled. Brian could help but laugh; Freddie never failed to fix everything... almost everything. 

“I’m going to check on Roger and Deaky.” Brian whispered, pushing himself from the table before he could continue to sicken everyone with his own self-pity. He walked carefully into the bedroom, not wanting to wake Roger, should he still be asleep. He reached the doorway and smiled at the sight in front of him. Roger was still curled up in his now-dry towel, with Deaky wrapped behind him, their arms entangled in front of them as they both slept peacefully. And, in that moment he wished he could stop right there. The four of them frozen in time; no one getting any sicker. The four of them able to live out their days and careers well into their fuddy-duddy old age. If only...


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brian and Freddie talk about how Queen might now need to slow down, and Roger releases some of his frustrations surrounding getting sick

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to say thank you to everyone for the kudos and comments. It means a lot. I also wanted to add that I have tried to keep everything in this story as hustlers ally accurate and research driven as possible, however, in order for this chapter to work, I have written it as if Queen had been touring in 1988. 
> 
> I have also gone through and put in some time stamps, just because some future chapter will have some significant time skips x

**January 18th, 1988**

As the four men exited the stage, the thunderous applause rang throughout the entire stadium. They all trailed backstage and into their dressing room, finding a resting place on various seats and sofas. Freddie began chatting fervently about the night, discussing the crowd, atmosphere and how they performed. He sat beside Brian on the sofa as he carried on about how "Tie Your Mother Down" needed some more work at the sound check the next day. John had moved from his seat to discuss with Freddie some of the performance notes. Half listening, Brian directed his attention to Roger, who sat on the opposite side of the dressing room, slumped in a chair, eyes already closed. Brian couldn't hide his frown as he watched the younger man. Both Roger and Freddie had been doing well, considering the rapidity at which AIDS was knocking people out. But, they still had their bad days. Roger had, had a couple of bad days in the last few weeks, and they had been messing around with the set to help him out a bit. A couple of times, Freddie had played around with the crowd a bit longer so Roger could have a few minutes to regroup; they'd sometimes cut songs all together because they proved far to physical for Roger's weakened state. Roger felt terrible about the fact, especially considering Freddie, who was in a similar situation, seemed to be coping just fine. Brian eyed his boyfriend carefully, trying to ensure he was doing alright. Slowly, Brian rose from his spot on the couch; John and Freddie appeared too engrossed in whatever quarrel they were having to notice his absence. He walked slowly to Roger and gently placed his hands on his shoulders, standing behind him. 

"Hey, baby. You alright?" Brian whispered, lifting his hand to gently caress Roger's cheek. Roger let out a quiet grunt and opened his eyes only slightly. He was still very sweaty - as they all were - and the lack of sleep they'd all been getting recently was more evident on his face than his three band mates. "You wanna have something to eat and then lay down?" He asked quietly, pushing Roger's sweaty locks back from his forehead. 

"M'not hungry." Roger croaked, slowly lifting his head to look up at Brian. Brian sighed softly; Roger's appetite had decreased significantly in the last couple months, leading Brian to force feed him dinner just to ensure he didn't lose anymore weight. As Brian was about to detest the statement, as voice echoed from the sofa. 

"You gotta eat, Rog." Both men turned to look at John, who was now standing much closer to them than before. Brian couldn't help but smile. Roger and John had a special friendship, and so when the younger man made an effort to help Roger, he usually listened. Roger let out a frustrated groan, adjusting slightly to rest his sweaty head on Brian's torso. "Come on, we'll stop at the diner outside the hotel." John said sweetly, holding a hand out for Roger. Roger took and shakily stood up, allowing John to be his stability. 

"Thanks, Deaky." He said softly, giving the younger man a bashful smile. As the younger men began making their way to the bus, Brian turned to Freddie. 

"How you feeling?" He said quietly. 

"I've been better." Freddie said bluntly, standing from the sofa. "But, as long as we're making music, I'll be just fine, darling." He grinned, giving Brian a gentle smack on the bum as walked past and out the door. 

\------ 

**January, 19th 1988**

Brian woke up in the hotel room, rolling over to find an absent space instead of a Roger. His concerns were quickly subdued by the sound of laughter coming from the lounge area. He slowly rolled out of bed, slipping on the hotel robe and venturing into the lounge area. He peered around the corner to see Roger and John, wrapped up in a rug - and each other - watching some cartoon that he was almost certain was for school children. He grinned, rolling his eyes jokingly as walked quietly past them and into the kitchen, not wanting to disturb their peace. He entered the kitchen and was met with a shirtless Freddie, leaning on the counter, drinking tea. 

"Not like you to be the last one awake." Freddie muttered from behind his mug. Brian sighed softly, as he grabbed a mug and his HIV meds. 

"Well, Roger didn't sleep great. So, neither did I..." He muttered, beginning to make himself tea. 

"He looked down right awful last night." Freddie sighed. Brian returned the exclamation with the quick nod. "Maybe..." Freddie began. "Maybe we should slow down." He whispered, not looking at Brian. Brian looked up from the tea, eyeing Freddie. 

"You want to stop touring?" He said slowly, just the ensure they were both on the same page. 

"Not stop." Freddie corrected. "Just slow down. You think it's doing Roger any good to be sweating out the little calories he does consume, every day on those drums." He said softly. "And I'm starting to feel it." Freddie admitted. "I'm no spring chicken, darling." Freddie smirked, sipping his tea with a grin on his lips. Brian returned the sentiment with a small chuckle. However, he didn't want to admit that such chuckle existed solely to hide the twisted feeling in his stomach at the thought of his friends getting too weak to do the thing they both adored. 

"Alright, Fred." Brian said, after his chuckle faded. "I'll talk to Roger and see what he says." Brian said quietly. As the conversation that was making Brian's insides knot up came to an uncomfortable close, John entered the kitchenette area. He placed the tea cups he was carrying on the bench and proceeded to refill them.

"He was a bit spotty this morning again, Brian." John said, almost out of no where. "Forgot he was making a cup of tea." He almost whispered. Brian sighed softly and just nodded. Roger had been forgetting things a little bit lately. He was never one to have a particularly sharp memory, but it had been getting increasingly worse. Like, forgetting he was making tea; or, asking Brian questions he'd asked just minutes before. The worst one so far had been during a sound check, when he was having a particularly bad day. 

_"Alright. Can we run A Kind of Magic from the top?" One of the sound technicians called from a little booth amongst the audience. At that point, the four men were scattered amongst the stage; Roger and Freddie were discussing one of the songs they'd just gone over, Brian was tuning his guitar and John was offstage getting another drink. They all slowly meandered back to their stations and prepared to begin. Freddie gave his three band members a knowing look and then turned to the sound technician who gave him a nod. Freddie began singing his part, and the clicks came in soon after. As the song reached its next stage, picking up as John joined in, the song came to an unexpected stop. The singer, bassist and guitarist all turned to look at their drummer, who had not come in when he was supposed to._

_"Roger!" Freddie called, waving his hands around. Regardless, the drummer sat there looking at his drums, brows furrowed and mouth open slightly._

_"Roger..." Brian said softly, taking a step closer to the drum riser. "Roger, honey..." He muttered, not usually using such names when they weren't keeping to themselves. Roger glanced from the drums to Brian._

_"I-I umm..." Roger stuttered. "I forgot." Was all he could form. Brian's brows furrowed and his lips settled into a frown. "I'm sorry..." He mumbled, looking absolutely mortified. Brian turned to the other band members with the same expression on his face; they both wore saddened and sympathetic looks._

_"We're going to take five!" Freddie announced, mostly to the sound technician, who was looking at the four of them impatiently._

_"Fuck. Fuck. For fuck's sake!" Roger cursed as they all exited the stage. "What the fuck was that?" Roger snapped, clearly talking only to himself._

_"Roger, dear. It's okay. Happens to the best of us." Freddie said happily, but quieter than most of his refrains. Roger just sighed and walked off to another corner of the backstage area. Brian looked to the other two, who shot him knowing looks. He nodded slightly and headed off to talk to Roger._

_"Rog." He said, grabbing the mans arm as he reached him._

_"What the fuck, Brian. What the was that?" He yelled, seething in his voice._

_"Roger; it's fine. You just forgot. It isn't the end of the world!" He shot back quickly, instantly regretting his choice of words when he saw the defeated frown on Roger's face. "Rog, I-" said quickly, only to be cut off._

_"Don't worry." He interjected. "It's easy to talk like that when you've got a life to look forward to." He spat, voice like venom - so much so that Brian flinched somewhat. Roger never spoke to Brian like that, and whilst he knew it was just the pain talking, it hit him right in the chest._

_"Roger... I didn't mean it like that; and I don't think of it like that - and you know that." Brian said calmly._

_"I know, Brian. But, can you just cut me some slack!" Roger groaned. "In addition to this constant impending storm cloud of doom that seems to be following me around, ridding me of the ability to eat and sleep properly, I am now forgetting the drum lines to songs that I wrote and making mistakes, and letting everyone down!" He said loudly, intensity only just masking the pain of reality in his voice._

_"You're not letting anyone down. Roger, I can assure you." He said softly, stepping forward to pulling his boyfriend into a hug._

_"Sure feels like it." Roger grumbled as his arms raised to hug Brian back._

_"Roger." Brian began, lulling back to look him in the eye. "You are the most talented drummer I've ever heard of. You had an off day. You and Fred are allowed to have those; no one is blaming you and you are not letting anyone down. We all understand. John and I; and Miami... We get what's going on and can only imagine what it's like for you two." He said softly, before pulling Roger back into the hug. The space they occupied fell silent, Roger just enjoying the embrace from his boyfriend; one he didn't get to enjoy in public very often. After a short while, Roger broke said silence._

_"Everything hurts." Roger admitted meekly, his voice croaking._

_"I know." Brian whispered, lifting his hand to softly toy with Roger's blond hair._

Brian let out a sad hum, looking at John, who also wore a downtrodden expression. 

"It's okay, Deaks." Freddie interrupted. "He still there - still Roger, yeah?" He grinned, looking at their youngest member. John nodded slightly, looking like his was choking back tears. "That's all that matters." Freddie whispered, patting his shoulder gently. John nodded once again, shifting his gaze to the cups of tea. 

"Go watch your cartoons, Deaky." Brian said softly, sensing the young man's discomfort with all the negative talk. "Roger is probably missing you already." He grinned. John lifted both the cups and began walking back to the living area. As he left, Freddie had begun coughing, the gentle tickle in his throat turning into a bent over, chunky and aggressive bark. Brian watched as with every cough, Deaky flinched, tears very much present in his eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm a little bit indifferent towards this chapter, but I couldn't figure out exactly what I wanted to write next. If anyone has any suggestions or some requests of scenarios to include, feel free to let me know. Please leave your comments - I love reading them! x


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the band have to face the press in the aftermath of cancelling their tour; and, Freddie and Roger share some very important words.

**August 14th, 1987**

The four of them entered the room and sat - Freddie and Roger quietly talking amongst themselves and Brian and John sitting on the outside of the pair in silence. Just days prior they had announced the abrupt end to The Magic Tour, citing all around fatigue as a cause. It wasn’t wrong; they were all tired - exhausted even. But, they spent most of their careers tired; they could have handled it. Well, John and Brian could have handled it. Freddie and Roger on the other hand... they were skating on thin ice considering the amount of energy they put into performing every night - and considering how neither possessed a considerable energy surplus anymore. They had made the collective decision to end the tour early. 

_“We’re so sorry...” Roger mumbled, unable to look his band mates in the eyes. Freddie and Roger has just returned from Freddie’s bedroom in the hotel and had declared an announcement. “We can’t do it anymore.” Roger croaked._

_“What do you mean, Roger?” Brian asked quietly, concerned by how cut up about whatever was going on Roger was._

_“The touring.” Freddie stated, not wanting Roger to suffer through admitting that he was struggling to keep up with the intense schedule. Freddie too was struggling, but he knew that Mr Roger Taylor the rock n roll star was especially disheartened about having to cut their tour - and frankly their careers - short. “It’s becoming a bit too much and we need a break.” Freddie said softly. The word ‘break’ fell from his mouth awkwardly. Deep down somewhere he hoped that, that’s exactly what it could be. A break. A few months - heck, he’d even do a few years - off, and then he and Roger would come back good as new. It was wishful thinking. “We are sorry.” Freddie reiterated Roger’s initial statement, wanting to make it clear to the other two that they most certainly didn’t want to stop touring - they had to. Although, he was quite sure they were well aware of this._

_“It’s okay...” John said softly, looking between the two of them. He moved to sit beside Roger, placing a gentle hand on Roger’s shoulder. “Your health is more important than some tour.” He said softly._

_“You-“ Roger choked out. “You can keep touring without us.” Roger whispered, holding back tears like his life depended on it. Brian knew that what was literally killing his beloved boyfriend, was also very much figuratively killing him. Everything about being sick had made Roger fragile - physically and emotionally. Where he would have bit back at someone with a harsh rebut or broken something in anger, he simply didn’t have the energy supply to do more than meander around in a constant state of hazy limbo; and Brian knew that Roger absolutely hated it._

_“Don’t be ridiculous, Roger!” Deaky snapped, almost angrily. “We’re not going to tour without you. Not now and not...” he began, but stopped himself before he could venture into the realm of what awaited Roger and Freddie. “We’re not touring. None of us.” He conceded. “End of.”_

So, now they sat on a long table facing dozens of cameras and microphones and people, all staring right at them. Brian quite enjoyed press conferences; he quite enjoyed talking about the music and eloquently informing the press on what they were working on. But, Brian was quite certain that this particular press conference wasn’t going to be about the music. 

And, unfortunately, Brian was correct. 

“Freddie, Freddie. Does the cancelling of The Magic Tour have anything to do with the reports of your ailing health?” One of the reporters asked, as soon as they were able to begin asking questions. Brian let out a slight sigh; he felt somewhat bad about being glad that Freddie received much of the brunt of the press attention. So far, nothing had been written about Roger. Perhaps it was the years of turning up to gigs and interviews with messy hair and eye bags from the previous nights party, that made Roger a less obvious target for scrutiny. But nonetheless, Brian was content. He knew Freddie could quip back at them - Roger would just get angry. Brian couldn’t help but grin as Freddie waved off the reporter with a condescending response, making the reporter sink angrily into their seat - clearly not getting the answer they were after. Many reporters continued yelling out to Freddie, seemingly trying to ask him likewise questions. Soon, from the depths of the small room, Brian could hear another name.

“Roger! Roger Taylor!” Yelled a man from in the centre of the group. Freddie gestured to the man, clearly appreciating a question not directed at him. The other voices quietened down as the man spoke up. “Roger; are you sick? You’ve been seen looking rather unwell lately?” He called. Brian’s stomach dropped. Roger had always been one to bite back at interviewers or give them lip, but he couldn’t be certain if in this moment he wouldn’t just resign and admit defeat. 

“Uhh, no...” Roger began, appearing just as ‘Roger’ as ever. “Just very tired. We’re all in need of a good rest.” He said confidently. Brian grinned as he watched him. 

“Roger; there have been some claims as of late that suggest you have also been diagnosed with AIDS. Given your known affairs, it’s not unreasonable. Can you substantiate these claims?” Another man called out immediately. Roger couldn’t help it; his jaw quite literally dropped. Not only were they questioning his health, which he certainly didn’t want to discuss. But, they wanted to bring up a seeming lack of faithfulness. He subtly looked over to Brian, in hopes of some sort of assistance, or support at the least. Since Brian and Roger had started dating, it had become customary to have Roger sit between Freddie and John, out of fear of them being a little too handsy when Brian had to calm Roger down. But right now, Brian wanted nothing more than to be able to grab Roger. Grab him and hold him and tell him it was okay. He wanted to scream. He wanted to tell all those awful reporters that they had no right to steal them of what little time they had to ask frivolous and insulting questions. If he had any less will power, he might have thrown something; but, he wasn’t Roger. Brian looked right at Roger, who despite all reasonable doubt, looked calm and collected. He looked towards the man. 

“First of all...” he started, almost rising in his chair slightly. “Also diagnosed with AIDS? I’m not sure who’s writing your questions, but there’s no one up here who has been diagnosed with AIDS.” He snapped. It was a bold face lie; but, given the conviction with which Roger said it, no one other than the four of them could see through it. “And my ‘known affairs’?” He continued, using his fingers to make speech marks. “My sex life... regardless of how fruitful or not, is none of your fucking business.” He snapped, now standing. “Just because you’re at home wanking into a sock doesn’t mean you can suggest there’s anything wrong with the way I live.” He said, his voice a bit too loud for the small space they were standing in. Brian was grimacing; this was exactly why Roger didn’t answer these sorts of questions. John slowly reached his hand up to grip Roger’s arm tightly, desperately trying to get him to sit down and stop making a scene. “As for being diagnosed with AIDS...” he started again. John immediately stood up, gripping him even tighter. 

“Rog...” he began, trying to get him to calm down. 

“No!” He snapped, aggressively shrugging John off of him. “Whoever is spreading those rumours, can suck mine. You people make me sick!” He yelled, before throwing his chair backwards as he moved, storming out of the little room. 

“Well... umm...” Miami butted in, stepping in from his place by the door. “Perhaps... we should have a little break.” He whispered, more to the boys than anything. The remaining three of them sat with baited breath, not a single one of them moving. It was as if the last two minutes had been a hazy and aggressive blur. Almost unreal. 

“Well, darlings...” Freddie finally said, almost as if nothing had happened. “You know how rockstars can be.” He chuckled weakly. “I will personally go and tend to our temperamental drummer. I’ll unfortunately have to leave you with Mr. Brian May and John Deacon.” He smirked, nervously. Brian could see how it was killing Freddie to act as if Roger was at fault, when they all knew the scum before them had led him to - quite reasonably - explode. Before anything more could be said, Freddie sauntered out the room, leaving Brian and John to fend for themselves. 

—— 

“Roger!” Freddie called as he entered the bathroom. There stood a red and sweaty Roger, leaning on the sink and sobbing into the mirror. “Oh, honey!” Freddie exclaimed, immediately pulling him into a tight hug. For a few moments, that’s how they stayed. Roger sobbing endlessly, and Freddie patiently holding him. 

“How do you do it?” Roger finally whispered, pulling away from Freddie slightly. 

“What do you mean, dear?” Freddie said sweetly, looking down at the younger man. 

“How do you make it seem like you’re doing fine? Are you not in pain?” He whispered, croakily. Freddie let out a quiet sigh. 

“Darling... it hurts. Everything. Always.” He admitted. “But, pushing through and acting as if nothing is wrong, and working on music with you all makes it harder to fall into this state that you’ve got yourself in. As bad as it sounds... if you pretend you’re not sick; it’s much easier.” He said softly. Roger sniffled and pulled away completely to look at Freddie.

“I just feel like such an idiot!” He groaned. “If I’d just been a bit more careful... used half a brain!” He said loudly, before looking at Freddie. “I’m sorry... I didn’t mean you-“ he muttered. Freddie simply shook his head and chuckled softly. 

“Rog; this isn’t some sort of karmic punishment.” He stated, reaching up to gently hold Roger’s face. “There is no higher power judging you for your choices and therefore thrusting this upon you.” He said softly. “You’re a good person - a great person.” He corrected. “You are so important to all of us... especially to Brian. He loves you more than I’ve ever seen anyone love someone.” He whispered; this statement alone made Roger’s breath hitch, thinking about the love of his life he was leaving behind. “You haven’t done anything wrong; and you certainly haven’t done anything to deserve this.” He whispered, grinning. Roger let out a weak smile. 

“Thanks, Fred.” He muttered, sniffling. “You’re doing so well.” He chuckled, pulling away to splash his face with cold water. “I just wish I knew what to do with myself.” He said softly. 

“When was the last time you and Brian had sex?” Freddie asked bluntly. Roger choked back a laugh and looked at Freddie. 

“Fred!” He snapped jokingly. “I don’t know... we haven’t had ‘sex-sex’ since... certainly before all this.” He chuckled. 

“That long? Roger, that’s almost a year. Poor Brian.” He smirked. Roger rolled his eyes as he dries his face with paper towel. “You should get back into it. Does wonders for you - really! Helps you sleep, reduces stress. It a wonder drug!” Freddie teased, a hardy grin on his face. Roger couldn’t help but laugh. 

“Did Brian put you up to this?” He smirked. 

“Absolutely not. But he’ll be glad I said so.” He winked, leaning against the wall. 

“God, I really don’t want to go back out there!” Roger groaned, still chuckling however.

“Oh, those bastards?” Freddie questioned, rolling his eyes. “Fuck ‘em.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks as always for the comments. I love hearing what you think and seeing you guys being invested. It means so much!!!   
> The idea for this chapter was recommended by Selemba - so thank you! If anyone has any suggestions or requests for scenes or scenarios, I’d love to hear them! x


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Deaky finally breaks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here’s a bit of Brian and Deaky. Sorry this one is so short x

**August 15th, 1987**

The next morning, Brian woke up on the couch of his and Roger’s flat. Roger was curled up in his right side and Freddie was splayed to his left. He looked around puzzled for a moment, before figuring they had probably fallen asleep there the night before, having had a night to themselves. His brow furrowed further, when his initial searching didn’t uncover Deaky. He saw a light shining from the dining area and carefully slipped away from Roger, shuffling to their dining table, to find John sitting there, a worried looking on his face. 

“Morning, Deaky. Everything okay?” He said softly, standing on the opposite end of the table to the younger man. John said nothing; just pushed the newspaper he was staring at towards Brian. He scanned the newspaper for a second - he barely had to search. Plastered on the front page was a picture of Roger during the press conference, standing and enraged. 

**_Queen Drummer joins Frontman Mercury in whirlwind of AIDS accusations_**

**_Does Roger Taylor’s AIDS fuelled meltdown confirm his diagnosis?_ **

Brian read it - and read it again. He figured if he read it enough times, maybe it would go away. Eventually, he glanced up at John, whose gaze hadn’t shifted from the table. 

“Deaky...” he whispered. John didn’t move, not even a breath escaped from his lips. Brian sighed softly. 

“John-“ he began, before being abruptly - and surprisingly - cut off. 

“Don’t.” John snapped. “I don’t want to talk about it. I don’t want to have this conversation with you - or with anyone.” He muttered sharply. 

“Deaky... you- you can’t pretend it’s not happening.” He said softly.

“That’s big coming from you.” John said softly, but with malice in his voice. Brian shot him a confused looked before he continued. “You’re over here pretending Roger isn’t sick.” John stated angrily. 

“What are you talking about?” Brian said a little more defensively than he intended. John finally looked up at him, a wicked gaze settling on him. Brian almost regretted coming into the kitchen, sensing that John was about to tear him down with ease. 

“You pretend that Roger isn’t sick!” He spat, his hands gripping the table gently. Brian flinched slightly, not even having time to gather his thoughts before John continued viciously. “Miami asked you how Roger was doing the other day and you said ‘fine’. Which I know for a fact is complete bullshit. I watched you tell Roger that he was doing really good, and he quite genuinely looked like he could have collapsed right there.” He spat. “Get a grip, Brian! They’re dying - both of them! Nothing you do - or don’t do for that matter - is going to change that. You can’t ignore the fact that Roger is sick. He is going to die - and he at least deserves the decency of you acknowledging that fact and honouring what he wants to do with the rest of his life. Are you seriously going to just pretend Roger’s not sick until he wastes away to nothing? And then what? You’ll pretend he’s still here? It’s nuts, Brian. Get a hold of yourself and be an adult, for fucks sake!” Brian flinched as Deaky cursed at him. “Stop sitting around pretending that every time they go to bed, either of them might not wake up!” He yelled, tears forming in his eyes. Brian stood, silently staring at John. On one hand, he couldn’t believe such words came from Deaky - who up until this point had remained mute of the impending outcome of their friends. One the other hand, he wasn’t surprised that John had finally snapped and was using his sharp tongue to hit Brian where it hurt. 

“John- you don’t have to be hurtful.” Brian finally whispered. John’s eyes widened. 

“Hurtful?” He spat. “You know what’s hurtful, Brian? Its hurtful that no one has even asked me if I’m okay.” He said, his voice quietening down for the first time since their argument had begun. “You and Roger have each other; and Freddie and Jim have each other... who do I have?” He whispered, and for the first time in the year since it seemed that Brian’s world was destroyed, he realised that Deaky’s world was also destroyed. “Every time Roger and I are sitting together in the mornings, I look at him and he’s just so thin and fragile - like he could break if I hugged him too hard.” Deaky whispered, tears becoming more prominent. “They don’t look like themselves anymore, Bri... they’re practically skeletons. It’s like this constant reminder that they’re gonna...” he trailed off and his eyes diverted from Brian’s. “I just... how are you supposed to prepare for when...” he whispered, like he was incapable of finishing a sentence. 

“I wish I knew...” Brian whispered, sitting down with John. He gently reached over and placed his hand on John’s back. John seamlessly leant over and into Brian’s chest. Brian sighed softly, rubbing John’s back and placing a gentle kiss to the younger mans temple.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There we go! The next one will be more Brian and Roger. 
> 
> As always, if you have any idea of suggestions/requests let me know. 
> 
> Thank you for the kudos and comments. They make my day x


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roger and Freddie are doing better than they have been in months - but, it doesn’t mean they don’t have to have conversations they don’t want to have

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it’s taken so long guys! I really couldn’t get this next chapter out. I’ve already written so many of the chapters after this, but this one just wouldn’t work. But, now it’s finished, I’m actually quite fond of it.

**November, 21st 1987**

The touring was long over, but they continued working tirelessly in the studio - all four of them. They would all be huddled in the dusty room from dusk until dawn - or until Roger or Freddie vetoed the day’s session. Freddie was dubbing over some vocals done the day before, that he had since deemed not good enough. Brian watching him carefully, hoping to offer some guidance that would allow the poor man to rest his throat, which Brian knew had been struggling to keep up with how meticulously the singer was demanding they work. As he finished the song and reached over to get some water, rubbing his throat, Brian turned his attention to Roger. He was curled up on the sofa under a thick grey blanket - the excessive weight loss had meant that Roger was never not ice-cold. But, despite the ever-thin face, Roger had a content smile on his face. More than content - in fact it was the most genuinely pleased and peaceful that Roger had looked in years. He couldn’t help but chuckle as he sauntered over, Roger giving him a lively grin - eye closed softly. 

“You alright?” Brian said happily, sitting beside him. Roger immediately engulfed him in the blanket, pulling his curly-headed boyfriend tightly into his chest. “You might be cold, but I am sweating bullets in here. I do not need a blanket.” Brian chuckled, but didn’t dare escape from Roger’s embrace, despite his increasing body temperature. 

“But, you’re so toasty…” Roger drawled, making it obvious he hadn’t uttered a word in the last few hours by how his voice cracked. Brian rolled his eyes and pressed a quick kiss to Roger’s cheek - making sure their sound technician wasn’t looking. The four of them had been doing quite a bit better, now that touring wasn’t occupying what little reserve of energy they did have - Brian and Roger especially; all thanks to Freddie. 

_”Apparently it’s a wonder drug!” Roger chuckled, standing in the kitchen with a cup of tea. Brian shook his head fondly._

_“And it was Freddie that told you this, yes?” Brian smirked, returning the chuckle. Roger nodded slightly, a cheeky grin on his face. “Ah, yes. So, that means it’s most definitely factually accurate!” He exclaimed, with fake overtness, before chuckling again._

_“Yes!” Roger returned the exuberance. “He’s doing great!” He laughed, putting his now empty tea cup in the sink. Brian ran a casual hand through his curls as he stepped towards Roger._

_“Are you sure?” Brian smirked, wrapping a long arm around Roger’s waist._

_“No.” Roger said flatly. “I suggested it to rile you up.” He smirked. “And to see how quickly I could get you hard.” He giggled, peering down at the obvious tent in Brian’s underwear. In his defence, it had been almost a year since he had gotten any action from anyone other than himself._

_“Shut up!” Brian chuckled, reaching a hand down to cover himself. “Are we doing this or what?” He muttered, ignoring how badly he wanted to jump Roger. Roger let out a cute snort._

_“Wow, so romantic, Bri! Sweep me off my feet, why don’t you?” He chuckled. Brian just rolled his eyes, looking at Roger expectantly. “Yes.” Roger laughed. “If you’re willing to fuck ol’ bag of bones over here...” he smirked. “Then yes; we are doing this.” He said, gripping Brian’s wrist and practically dragging him to the bedroom they’d just woken up from._  
  
It had been at least two months since Roger had suggested they start having sex again, and whilst Brian didn’t enjoy admitting anyone other the himself to be right - especially Freddie - god, had Freddie been right about the whole wonder drug thing. Roger was doing so much better! He was so lively and spritely, and there was that glint of “absolute-little-shit” that Brian had so desperately missed seeing in his boyfriend - they all had. And whilst Brian wasn’t in need of any real wonder drug himself, he had appreciated it none the less. Having that little part of his and Roger’s lives go back to normal was enough to make getting up everyday easier. 

“Are we nearly done?” Roger whined softly, looking from Freddie and John to Brian. Brian shrugged slightly. 

“Ask Freddie.” He said softly, both of them now looking at their singer, still working on the same verse. 

“It sounds good, Freddie.” Roger called, successfully pulling the singer from his vocal exercises. 

“Thank you, darling. Just a few more times, and it’ll be perfect.” He called back, hand back to his throat. 

“It’s perfect, Fred. I promise.” Roger called back, this time a little sweeter. Freddie looked at Roger for a moment - his eyes flicking from Roger to Brian and back again. Brian glanced between the two sick men, the look on their faces as if they were communicating without even speaking. Was AIDS turning them into Superman or something? “Call it a day?” Roger called to him, a smirk on his lips and his eyes squinting to properly see Freddie through the studio window. 

“I’d say so, dear.” Freddie grinned sheepishly, taking off the headphones as he stepped grandiosely out of the booth and into their shared space. John was quietly talking to the sound technician as Freddie grabbed him by the back of the shirt and pulled him into a group of the four of them. “Sleepover at Roger and Brian’s?” Freddie chuckled. 

“Don’t Roger and I have to okay that?” Brian chuckled. 

“Yes; and we have.” Roger quickly added. Freddie stood up straighter, clapping his hands together. 

“50 percent is a pass. Fantastic. Shall we go then?” He grinned, holding a frail hand out for an equally frail Roger. Roger took it and stood up, letting himself be ravished in a hug from Freddie. They both looked awful, but Brian - and surely Deaky too - could feel the pure happiness radiating from their embrace; and like hell Brian was going to turn that into a bad thing. 

—— 

The car ride home had been uneventful. Roger had fallen asleep, and despite how content Brian would have been to carry Roger inside as to not disturb him, there was a plethora of cameras and reporters waiting outside their house - he figured it better to have Roger just walk in. Once they’d made it inside, they all sat around Roger and Brian’s small dining table; Roger was still foggy from his nap and was resting his chin in the palms of his hands, with his elbows on the table, just listening to the gentle banter. 

“Movies? We could order some take out? Pizza?” Freddie said softly, glancing between his band mates, stopping as he reached Roger. “Sound good, Rog?” He said softly. Roger’s eyes fluttered closed slightly as he let out a content hum. Freddie just laughed. “That’s a yes.” He chuckled, standing to move to the phone as he grabbed the pizza menu from the fridge. Freddie placed their order as the rest of them moved to the couch, Brian now not opposed to picking Roger up. The three of them sat on the small two seater couch, Roger in Brian’s lap. 

“Ow.” John grunted, standing slightly from where he’d just fallen. He reached under the throw pillow, holding a small bottle of what was undeniably lube. Brian look at John, who looked as equally mortified as he felt. 

“You filthy animals!” Freddie sung, sharing a shit-eating grin with Roger as he sauntered over to the couch. John quickly dropped the bottle in Freddie’s lap, wiping a hand on the couch cushion. “Really is a wonder drug, huh?” Freddie smirked. Brian averted his eyes, too mortified to answer, let alone admit that Freddie was right. Roger and Freddie just burst into laughter, the whole ordeal seemingly awakening Roger from his haze. After a few short moments, Roger got up to fiddle with the VCR. Brian couldn’t help but look at the way Roger’s old shirts engulfed his now tiny body - it was a constant reminder that despite how jovial he was, Roger wasn’t getting any better. He glanced over at Freddie and Deaky, only to see his band mates seemingly doing the same; trying to hide the somber looks on their faces. Roger popped in the VHS tape and bounced back over to Brian’s lap. 

“What’d you put on?” John said softly, his gaze still on the space Roger had previously occupied. 

“Ferris Bueller’s Day Off.” Roger stated plainly. John scoffed softly. 

“Roger... that’s a kids movie.” He chuckled, rolling his eyes. 

“No... it’s PG-13.” He chuckled, getting comfortable in Brian’s lap. “When’s pizza coming?” He mumbled, changing the subject seamlessly. 

“30-40 minutes.” Freddie said softly. Roger groaned.

“That’s so long... I’m hungry.” He whined. Brian couldn’t help but smile; he hadn’t heard Roger say he was hungry with that much conviction in the last 6 months. Brian wrapped his arms tightly around Roger, running his long fingers over Roger’s cold skin. The four of them stared mindlessly at the television for a while. After about 20 minutes, when 75% of the group were engrossed in the movie they’d already seen several times, Roger spoke up, eyes darting nervously betwixt his best friends. 

“Guys...” he finally spoke up, his hands shaking - he wasn’t sure if that was the cold or his nerves. Freddie and John turned quickly to look at him, and he felt Brian’s head lower to be closer to him. He let the words run through his mind a thousand - if not a million - times. He opened his mouth and let out a shaky breath. “P-promise we’ll always be Queen.” He asked shakily, his eyes already threatening tears. He could already feel Freddie’s hand on his knee, giving it a gentle squeeze. “Promise you guys won’t stop being Queen...” he added, looking between Brian and John. 

“Roger... the four of us... we’ll always be Queen. We promise you that.” John began, his voice caring, but clearly nervous. “But, without you or Freddie... it just isn’t Queen anymore.” He mumbled, quickly looking away from Roger. Roger visibly deflated, his hands shook more and the tears were so close to making themselves known that Roger was biting his lip with such intensity he was worried he would bite it off. 

“I’m not saying you have to keep touring and making music... just that you’ll always stay together.” Roger muttered, his voice making it clear he was on the verge of tears. 

“We’re a family, Rog. But we all have lives.” He mumbled, before realising just how he’d put his foot in his mouth. Roger and Freddie: they didn’t have lives - at least not for much longer. And Brian... his life was Roger. For years they’d been the dynamic duo - long before they were even together. He looked at all three of his band mates and let out a shaky sigh. “Rog... we don’t know what’s gonna happen when...” he paused nervously. “When everything starts to happen.” 

“Deaky... promise me. Please.” Roger practically begged. 

“Roger, I can’t.” John said bluntly, unable to look his tearful friend in the eyes. Roger was a little taken aback. He looked John once over and let out a shaky breath. 

“O-okay...” he whispered, shifting his focus back to the movie, almost as if the aforementioned conversation never happened. 

—— 

Later that night, after pizza and more movies, the four men were sprawled across the living room. Freddie was asleep in the arm chair, John was on the two seater and Brian and Roger had made a makeshift bed out of the blankets and pillows from their room - Roger peacefully asleep on Brian’s chest. 

Brian lifted his head to peer around the room. 

“Deaky?” He whispered, the younger man’s head cocking up towards him. 

“Mm?” John muttered. 

“Why’d you say that?” He said softly, trying to make sure he didn’t sound disapproving. “Why’d you tell Roger we wouldn’t stay together? Do you really think that?” He continued. John let out a heavy sigh. 

“I didn’t mean it like that, Brian. I love you and I always will - you know that.” He started. “But, I won’t lie to him - I don’t care if I’d only be breaking that promise after he’s dead.” He muttered, his voice quivering over the words. “I want to be able to honour their wishes - I do. But, without them, it’s not Queen. It’ll never be Queen again. We could find a singer and drummer a million times more flashy or fabulous or - god forbid - even more talented than them... but it doesn’t mean it’s Queen.” He whispered. Brian nodded slightly, he hadn’t expected to replace them - not in a million years. But, he couldn’t help but feel that John hadn’t answered his question. 

“But... staying together? Not as a band, but as friends?” Brian questioned. John shifted to sit up properly. 

“We’ll always be friends. We’ll always be family; and we’ll always have each other. But, I don’t know if I can see you everyday without being constantly reminding of Roger. You’re one and the same - peas in a pod. I close my eyes and think of Brian, and it’s Brian and Roger - best friends and boyfriends and...” he trailed off, his eyes now wet with tears. “I don’t wanna spend the rest of my life looking at you and seeing a Roger that isn’t there... I can’t do that to myself.” He said quietly. “I’m sorry, Brian.” He whispered. Brian remained silent for a moment, taking it all in. 

“This is all I’ve got...” Brian finally admitted. “Roger... and Queen.” He mumbled. “And if you’re saying it’s all over once Freddie and Roger...” he stopped, unsure of how to continue glossing over the inevitable. 

“Die.” Came a quiet voice from the corner. Brian and John’s heads snapped to the armchair. “We’re dying, darling. There’s no point pretending.” Freddie continued. “Now, go on.” He said softly. Brian swallowed thickly, suddenly uncomfortable with complaining about his plights now that Freddie - who admittedly had a much larger one - was listening. 

“I just don’t know what I’ll do once they... die.” Brian muttered, the last word feeling like acid in his throat. 

“You say that like I do know.” John replied, no hint of anger in his voice. Brian looked at him with an evident frown. “Brian...” he began again. We’ll see what happens when the time comes. But, I still won’t lie to Roger; and I won’t make promises I can’t keep.” John said matter-of-factly. Brian just nodded meekly. “They’re going into the unknown... and we are too. But, we’ll be alright, Brian. You’ll be alright. I promise.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really hope you guys enjoyed this! As always, I love to hear what you guys think as well as any suggestions, critiques or requests.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brian and Roger's domestic time together goes from bad to worse in the later half of 1988.

**October 18th, 1988**

"Roger-" Brian said softly as he entered their living room holding two mugs of tea. "Roger, baby; that's the fifth time your mother has called. You need to answer her eventually." He said softly, handing Roger - who was currently balled up on the couch under a blanket - his mug. Roger just groaned in reply. Brian gave him a stern, knowing look. 

"She's just calling to see if Dominique and I have gotten back together, yet." He sighed, rolling his eyes dramatically as he sipped his tea. Brian couldn't help but chuckle. Roger and Dominique hadn't been a thing for almost a decade. Roger had only told his mother that they were 'taking a break' to save face, and make sure no suspicions were raised about he and Brian still living together.

"I'm serious, Rog. I can't keep telling her you're out for the day - she's gonna start thinking I've murdered you or something." Brian huffed, but with a small chuckle, as he opened his arm for Roger to shuffle into. 

"Perfect! Have her think I'm dead until I actually am." He chuckled, though Brian knew he was only using the cynicism as a way to deflect from how hurt he was. 

"You don't mean that." Brian said softly, placing his tea on the side table and pulling Roger closer to him. 

"Oi! I'm holding hot tea! Give me a heads up before you try and put me in a headlock!" Roger exclaimed, laughing as he put down his tea also and nuzzled as close to Brian as humanly possible. "And I do mean it." He added as he stuck his face in Brian's neck. "When I do go, just tell her I partied too hard and swallowed my own tongue." He mumbled, wrapping his slender arms around Brian's torso. Brian returned the favour, gripping Roger's tiny frame tightly. 

"Babe..." He sighed. Roger lifted his head from Brian's shoulder to give him a questioning look. "Don't talk like that... I'm not telling your family that." He mumbled; he tended to get a little uncomfortable when Roger - or Freddie, for that matter - talked so candidly about their own deaths. 

"What are you gonna tell them, then?" Roger said softly, sitting back and looking at Brian a little more seriously than before. Brian looked at him and stared silently - they hadn't really spoken about it. Brian hadn't expected to be the one to have to tell anyone - the most important people already knew. He hadn't though about how to break it to Roger's family - or to the public for that matter. But, according to the tabloids, they already speculated a communicable disease. 

"I guess - we could just tell them the truth." Brian finally muttered, pushing hair out of his face. Roger's eyes went wide for a moment. 

"As in... the whole truth? Like you and me truth?" He questioned, shifting so that he was sitting facing Brian. Brian's mouth twisted up and his brows furrowed. He hadn't thought about that before he'd suggested it - and now he wasn't sure he wanted to divulge those truths considering he'd be the one left to live with them. 

"I- I hadn't thought of that..." He muttered, staring at the mug on the coffee table. Roger sat up onto his knees and grasped Brian's face, turning it towards him. 

"It's okay. We'll work something out. You won't have to tell anyone anything you don't want to." He whispered, pressing a gentle kiss to Brian's lips. Brian couldn't help but smile as he pulled back and saw Roger's loving grin. 

"God, I love you so much." He chuckled, running his thumbs over Roger's hip bones. Roger let out a gentle, raspy giggle. 

"I love you too, Bri." He whispered, pulling the larger man into a hug. "Need some of that wonder drug?" Roger asked, and Brian could sense the smirk on his face. 

"Yeah, but later." He said, pulling back, frowning as he was met with Roger's disappointed expression. "I wanna talk about it... about what you want us to say?" Brian said softly. Roger's face screwed up tightly. 

"I- I don't know what I want you to say... but I don't want you to say that I- that I had AIDS." He whispered. "Or that we were together..." He added, looking anywhere but at Brian. "I'm not... ashamed." He mumbled. "I'm not embarrassed of us-" He whispered, the shakiness in his voice suggesting he was about to cry. 

"You don't have to explain yourself, Rog. I get it. I don't think I feel okay with the thought of it, myself." He whispered, pressing a gentle kiss to Roger's forehead. 

"I just don't want to give them anything to talk about once I'm gone." He added, almost as if it wasn't a part of the conversation. Brian frowned slightly. He wanted to tell Roger that it didn't matter what they said about him after he was gone, but he knew that deep down, Roger knew that. He just pulled him back into a hug. 

"Let's save it for some other time." Brian said soothingly, though he wasn't sure there would be a better time for a conversation such as this. "How about that wonder drug, my love?" He questioned, Roger nodded and began to gently kiss down Brian's jaw and neck.   
_______

**December 6th, 1988**

Brian stared down at the pill in his hand. Zidovudine. Once in the morning; once in the evening. It had become a ritual of taking said medication before Roger woke up, and after he went to sleep. Roger had never specified that this is what he wished, nor would he probably have any issues with it. But, Brian couldn't bring himself to take them in front of Roger - not when they were his ticket to the rest of his life, and Roger couldn't take them - didn't have a ticket. It broke his heart. He swallowed the pill, it felt larger and more uncomfortable in his throat than it should have - but, it always did. Always felt like what he imagined Roger's death would be like to swallow. Painful and too much - but unavoidable, if he wanted to keep on living. Which he did; he had to - he'd promised them. Suddenly, he was snapped from his on self pity as he heard Roger's raspy morning voice. 

"Bri!" His voice sounded more alarmed than usual. "Brian!" He called again, panic now very evident in his voice. Brian's eyes widened as he put down his cup and quickly made his way towards their bedroom. 

"Roger! Roger, love. Are you okay? Where are you?" He called, beginning to search frantically when Roger was not in the bedroom. 

"Bathroom." He called back shakily. Brian practically bounded into the bathroom, not bothering to knock or check; he just swung the door open. He was met with the sight of Roger standing in the mirror, towel around his waist as he stared at himself. Brian's pace slowed once he saw Roger, stepped closer to him slowly. 

"Rog, baby... what's going on?" He whispered, for no reason other than fear of what Roger's reply may be. Roger didn't say anything; he didn't move - it didn't even look like he breathed. Brian's frown deepened, panic starting to set in. He took a small step closer. "Roger?" He questioned, his tone evidence of his panic. 

"I..." Was all Roger could get out. His eyes shifted from Brian, and then to his torso. His nimble fingers moved to a spot just above his hip, but it was on the side opposite Brian, so he couldn't see it. Brian gingerly took a few more steps forward. 

"Roger, honey. What is the matt-" He didn't have to finish the sentence. He saw it, and he knew. There is was - that awful little purple, bruise-like mark. It was sitting there, all on it's lonesome, not an inch from Roger's protruding hip bones. Like a kiss from the devil, it made Brian's heart ache. Like someone had forced open his mouth and poured acid down his throat, burning it and all his insides. He couldn't figure out what he felt - anger or despair. He couldn't figure out if he wanted to burst into tears or punch the mirror into a thousand pieces. He wasn't a violent person, but in that moment, Brian could have shattered the glass without a second thought. He finally dared to look at Roger, whose expression had not faultered since he entered the bathroom - except now, there were tears running down his face. 

"It's- it's over, Brian." Roger whispered, his voice so quiet that if Brian had been any further away he wouldn't have heard it. "It was always over..." Roger added, his eyes finally dropping to the floor. 

"Rog-" He started, not even sure where he was going to go with it. It didn't matter, thought; he was cut off as quickly as he began. 

"Don't." Roger snapped, harshly. "Don't lecture me. I want be alone. I want to be left alone until I die and rot." He spat, gripping his towel as he pushed past Brian and back to the bedroom. Brian let out a breath he didn't realise he was holding. After a few moments, he followed Roger back to the bedroom. 

"Love..." he whispered, as he saw Roger sat on he edge of the bed with his face in his hands. 

"Brian. It's over!" He yelled, desperation in his voice as tears pooled on his cheeks. "I don't know why I was so stupid! But, I really thought they'd figure something out and it would be okay. They'd find a cure and everything would go back to normal." He cried. Brian sat beside him quickly and placed a gentle hand on his back - he could feel each vertebrae in his spin as he attempted to sooth his mess of a boyfriend. "I... I'm never going to drum again. Never going to get to perform in front of people. I'm never going to get to hold like baby hands and look at a child that I love more than anything; and... I want that." He whispered, choking back sobs. "I want to be a dad, and a grandad, and a husband... your husband." He mumbled, looking to Brian. "I'm so sorry." He added, sniffling as he fell into Brian's arms. 

"Babe. You have absolutely nothing to apologise for." He whispered, holding Roger tightly. "I'm not going to say that it's okay; but, I will say that I love you... I love you enough to know that we'll work it out. Do you trust me?" Brian said softly. Roger let out a despaired sort of cry, like the words Brian uttered pulled the sound from deep in his stomach. Brain exhaled softly and ran his slender fingers through Roger's thinning locks. "Do you?" He repeated, hoping to get actual words out of Roger. 

"I do... I trust you with my life, Bri." He whispered. "And I trust you with my legacy." He added, causing Brian to look down at him; Roger had tears running down his cheeks again. "I trust you make sure that I'm remembered... I don't care what you tell my family - just don't tell them about me like this. I wanna be remembered as Roger Taylor - rockstar, and party animal, and hopefully... good person. Not Roger Taylor - fragile, and perpetually sad, and... dying." He mumbled. Brian pulled Roger in tighter, carefully listening to every word. 

"You can trust me." He whispered, cradling the love of his life with every fibre of his being.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, I appreciate the comments! I love hearing your personal thoughts about the events in the chapter. Let me know what you think about this chapter! x


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roger and Freddie witness an AIDS rally, and it really puts things in perspective for Roger

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I only updated like 12 hours ago, but I just really wanted to put this one out because it's a bit shorter. I have now written (or almost written) the rest of the story, so there will be six more chapters. I wanted to know ho everyone would prefer them to be released. Do you prefer them to be every day? Every couple of days? Every week? Let me know, otherwise I'll update them willy-nilly and he stressed about it.
> 
> This chapter was based on the movie 'How to Survive a Plague', which I watched the other day (and cried my eyes out at). I highly recommend watching it, it's just so heart-wrenching.

**January 20th, 1990**

“And, as we enter the new decade, the figures reach 117,508 cases of AIDS reported to date, and 89,343 deaths. However, many such diagnoses and deaths are left unreported due to the stigma of the AIDS virus plaguing the nation.” The newscaster spoke, her voice steady and calm despite the subject matter and the grim images of dying – and by this point, likely dead – men. 

“God, please. Turn this off.” Roger groaned, gripping his tea in his skeletal fingers. 

“Yes, dear. It’s so drab and depressing. Who wants to hear something like that?” He drawled, sitting on the back of the couch behind Roger, a hand running through the shorter blonde locks. They were all at Freddie’s house for the day – they were working on some songs for their next album, but had gotten severely distracted. At that moment, they were all in the living room watching the news – they were that is. Until the segment turned to the AIDS epidemic and the small screen was plastered with images too brutal for Brian and John to stomach, let alone Roger and Freddie. Brian quickly reached forward to switch off the television, the screen going black and the four men being left in silence. Roger shifted slightly, his tea cup now empty. His nimble fingers found their way to a purple lesion sitting just under the sleeve of the sweater he had stolen from Brian. He ran is fingers over it, again and again; as if rubbing it enough would wipe it away like a dirty mark from the garden. He knew it was wishful thinking; but, that’s all they had left nowadays – wishful thinking and hope. A hope for what, they weren’t quite sure. More and more people continued to die, but Roger and Freddie remained, whether it was that they’d gotten tested early, or were going to live to be the lucky ones, they weren’t sure. They both hoped for the latter, but all logic pointed to the former. The pure fact that little research was being put into the pandemic was enough cause for concern about whether Freddie and Roger – and countless other for that matter – were going to see any kind of happy ending. There were days when Roger truly thought the happy ending was death – death to end the constant, excruciating pain he now lived with. “Leave it, dear.” The soft voice behind his spoke up, still tracing circles through his locks of hair. He glanced up at Freddie and nodded weakly, keeping his gaze on the older man to ensure he didn’t go back to fussing over the purple spots that now littered most of his body. His quiet internal monologue was interrupted by the sound of yelling coming from outside Freddie’s home. He looked towards the window and felt himself subconsciously standing up. “It’s just the paparazzi, dear. They’re here for their daily stake out. Leave them be.” He muttered, clearly bothered by the presence of cameras outside his home. 

“It doesn’t sound like paparazzi, Fred.” Roger mumbled, edging closer to the window. “There’s too many voices… they’re not calling out to you – they’re… chanting.” He whispered, as he reached the window. “There’s… there’s a riot outside.” Roger mumbled, causing the other three sets of ears in the room to perk up. 

“What? A riot? I highly doubt it. It’s probably a street parade or something stupid.” John responded flatly, reading a newspaper from the armchair he sat at. 

“No…” Roger said softly, now walking towards the front door. “They have signs, and they’re chanting. I want to go see.” He said softly. Brian quickly stood up. 

“Do you think that’s the best idea, love?” He questioned, scuttling to follow Roger and grip his arm gently. 

“Yes. I want to go see. It’s not like we’re doing anything productive. Come with me, Fred?” He asked meekly, his eyes – and clearly his mind – trained on the commotion on the street. 

“It sure beats sitting here watching depressing news stories, darling. But, only if we stay hidden. I don’t want it to become a riot in my house.” He chuckled softly and ushered Roger out the door. They reached Freddie’s fence and peered slightly over the top of the brick. There were people lining the streets, walking and holding hands, or holding signs. There were all yelling.

“The whole world is watching! The whole world is watching!” They chanted. Opposite them were police, trying desperately to detain the masses. Roger stood further up on his tip toes, squinting to read the signs. 

**_ONE AIDS DEATH EVERY HALF AN HOUR – STOP BLOCKING AIDS TREATMENT_ **

It was an AIDS rally. Roger audibly gasped, he turned to look at Freddie, whose smile was wide and proud. 

“It’s…” Roger began, but he couldn’t possibly put into words the sight he saw before him. Hundreds, if not thousands of men and women walking the streets arm in arm; chanting and yelling, laughing and crying with one another – all because of AIDS. Roger could hardly fathom the idea that something as bitter and monstrous as AIDS was producing a sight that was bringing him to tears. 

“It’s change, darling.” Freddie whispered, and Roger didn’t have to turn to him to see the smile on his face – he felt it. Sure, they’d seen AIDS rallies on television, in America. But, this was happening right outside their door – literally. There was a plethora of people who cared so much about it – and, as odd as it seemed to himself, Roger found it comforting. He suddenly didn’t feel as alone. Having Freddie was blessing enough, but this… this was a community. Roger had never felt apart of anything other than Queen before – the last twenty years in the closet had robbed him of the community that seemed to envelope Freddie. But this was something different. This was a group of people with veracity and hope, despite literally looking death in the face. He felt strong – because of them. If it weren’t for every logical part of his brain telling him it was a poor idea, he would have joined them in a heartbeat. But, he was content with watching from afar – Freddie was too. They viewed the sight, enamored. 

“Holy shit.” He finally whispered, his voice breathless from his utter loss of words. He glanced at Freddie, who had the biggest smile he’d ever seen. 

“Roger…” He whispered, looking towards him. Roger’s gaze was already trained on Freddie. “Someday there will be people alive, that will hear the story of this wretched, villainous disease; and they will know that a brave group of people stood up and fought.” He said softly, reaching to grip Roger’s hand gently, interlocked their bony digits. “- and in some cases died, so that they could be free.” Freddie finished. Roger just nodded, too in awe of what he’d seen to truly understand the gravity of what Freddie had said. 

“This is so important – these people are so important.” Roger whispered. “How do they do it? How do they walk the streets so free like that?” He said softly; Freddie responded with a soft chuckle.

“Courage gives you strength, my dear; and strength can change the world.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments make my day - let me know what you think, and when you'd prefer that updates come out. Thank you all so much for reading and supporting x


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Recording 'The Show Must Go On' becomes a cathartic moment for the four boys.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think I am going to bring the rest of the chapter out every 1-2 days, so it should be all wrapped up in a week or two. I'm kind of sad, because I absolutely love writing this; but, I'm excited for you guys to see the rest of it. As always, let me know what you thing - I love to read all your insightful comments! x

**November 30th, 1990**

They had been in the studio for hours. They hadn’t spent hours playing instruments – no. They had spent hours perfecting every chord and lyric before they had even stepped foot in the booth. John was currently playing over his bass line for what Roger was certain was the 70th time. They were all exhausted, but none more than Freddie. He was looking very ill, and his face was even gaunter than Roger’s. He wore a thin film of makeup, as did Roger – courtesy of Freddie of course. There had been a brief moment of panic a few hours earlier when Roger realised that people on the way to and at the studio would see the lesions on his face 

_”I can’t… oh no, no, no. Brian, please don’t make me go out there.” He panicked, peering down at the scattered paparazzi out the front of their flat. There had been a few scattered cameras and reporters there for the last couple of days, all hoping to catch a glimpse of an ailing Freddie. He wasn’t there, of course; but they seemed determined to cover all bases, stationing themselves at any and every place they figured he may be._

_“Rog. It’s okay.” Brian said, for what was probably the tenth time that morning. “We’re going to go straight from the front door, to the car parked right on the curb – see? Then we’ll go to the studio; straight inside from the car – same thing on the way back.” He explained calmly, standing behind his boyfriend as he stared at the people littered on the ground._

_“No.” He repeated. “They’ll see them. They’ll take pictures and put them everywhere they can – newspapers, magazines, on the television. My mum and sister… they’ll see and… they’ll know.” He trailed off, starting to breathe too rapidly for his own comfort. In the previous months of Roger’s fluctuating and declining health, he had decided against telling the true story of his death to the public and his family._

_“Roger; baby. Please, calm down – come sit.” He said gently, gripping Roger’s tiny arms and floating him over to the couch. He pulled him down into his lap and connected their lips; he felt Roger melt into him and he wrapped his long arms around Roger’s small frame. “I promise you – we’ll figure something out. I’m going to call Freddie.” Brian whispered as he pulled away from Roger. Roger had a deep frown on his face. “What’s wrong, my love.” He frowned, his brows knitting together._

_“Wanted more kisses…” Roger frowned for a moment, before breaking into a gentle giggle. Brian rolled his eyes as his hand reached for the phone._

_“When we get home tonight, you can have all the kisses in the world.” He smirked, lifting the phone to his ear as he dialled Freddie’s number, never once breaking loving eye contact with Roger._

_“Hello, Freddie’s phone?” Said the unmistakably monotone voice. It was John._

_“Deaky! Good; you guys haven’t left. I thought I might have missed you guys.” Brian said cheerfully; Brian could hear him huff on the other end of the phone._

_“That would mean we’d be on the road already – and then god forbid we arrive at the studio on time.” He chuckled dryly. Brian returned the chuckle. “I got here about 20 minutes ago to pick Freddie up.” He continued. “I don’t think we’ll be leaving for another 20.” He said flatly. Brian grinned fondly and glanced back at Roger, who was running stick-thin fingers over a patch on purple on his forearm. Brian wordlessly reached up and took Roger’s hand in his own._

_“I know this is a little bit odd, but… considering we’re going to be late anyway…” Brian began nervously, breaking eye contact with Roger. “Do you think you guys could stop by here… and bring Freddie’s makeup?” He muttered, feeling Roger shift uncomfortably on top of him. The other end of the line was silent for a few moments, until he heard gentle mumbling. Shortly after, the line crackled and the quiet dulcet tones of Deaky were promptly replaced with the raspy sing-song of Freddie._

_“Oh; Roger, dear! What would you like me to bring you? Some shadows? A nice lip? I have a gorgeous peach rouge that would look stunning on you.” He chuckled. Roger was close enough to the phone that he could hear Freddie’s squawks._

_“Just some cover up, Fred… please.” He said gently into the phone. Brian could almost hear the fond smile on Freddie’s face._

_“Of course, dear. We’ll be right over.” He grinned._

_“He’s lying. We’ll be at least fifteen minutes!” He heard Deaky called down the phone. Brian chuckled fondly, shaking his head as Roger laughed also._

Roger had finished recording his drumline about an hour ago, and had assumed his favourite spot on the little couch in the studio, figuring that Freddie’s vocals would be what they worked on for at least the next two hours. The drumline had been hard – not just because it had been a difficult song, but because he could barely get through a verse without becoming exhausted. They had recorded his part in pieces. He would record a verse; take fifteen – record a chorus; take fifteen. It was a long process, and Roger felt so bad that he was turning a three minute song into a three hour long ordeal. Brian and John were nothing but patient however; they had told him while he was resting – drenched in sweat – that it was sounding really good and he was doing a great job. Whether they were lying to him or not, Roger was grateful for them – immensely so. He glanced over at Brian and Freddie, who were quietly discussing something he couldn’t hear. John was in the process of unhooking his bass. 

“Are you sure you can manage, Fred?” Brian said gently, peering nervously at the singer. Freddie gave him a jokingly hurt look, and glanced around the room, yes stopping on the table in front of Roger. “Fred, I don’t know if this is going to be possible to sing.” Brian added. Freddie simply shook his head. 

“Roger, dear. Hand me that bottle of vodka.” He demanded. Roger reached forward and grasped it, thrusting it carefully into Freddie’s thin hand. “I’ll fucking do it, darling.” He smirked, taking the most measurable swig – one Roger didn’t think he could have stomached even in his prime. 

The song was unbelievable; Freddie’s vocals… so raw and emotional – all in one take. The three of them outside the booth would have been lying if they said they weren’t verging on emotional. But, it was when they showed them the rough playback – of all of them together. The way the melodies all congregated to make a sound so – unmeasurable… so raw. It couldn’t possibly have been described as anything other than… Queen. Roger looked around the small room at his three best friends; all with tears in their eyes. He let out a soft sniffle. 

“It’s… it’s amazing guys…” he whispered. “We did really good.” He stated quietly, looking between the three of them, he was trying to not let genuine tears start running. 

“You guys did good.” John whispered, pulling both Freddie and Roger into his sides. “Brian and I are really proud of you – not just today… but the last couple of years, too; we know it’s been tough.” He said quietly, almost like he was embarrassed to be showing so much emotional vulnerability. Roger could feel his cheeks burning red hot; it wasn’t until Brian walked over and wrapped his long arms around the three of them that Roger buried his face in his boyfriend’s shirt and let himself cry. His shoulder shook as he sobbed; he didn’t even care. He knew fair well – looking at him and Freddie – that was the last time they’d get to record together. 

“Should we get going? It’s pretty late.” Brian said quietly amidst the group hug. Roger and Freddie both nodded. 

“Just quickly want to show you something, my dear.” Freddie said to Brian, who eyed him, a bit confused. 

“We’ll go wait in the car.” John said softly, reaching out for Roger’s hand. Roger mindlessly slipped his hand into John’s using his free hand to dry his tears as he was led to the car. They both got comfy, Roger slowly leaning over to rest his head on John’s shoulder. Normally, he’d be quite adverse to the contact, but since Freddie and Roger hadn’t gotten really bad, there was something in John that didn’t seem to care nearly as much. After a few minutes of sweet silence, Roger sat up and turned slightly to face John. 

“Deaky…” He began, nerves evident in his hoarse, shaky voice. 

“Yeah, Rog?” John replied, not turning to face Roger. 

“I know you said you don’t want you and Brian to stay together, but I need you to promise me something.” He said softly, averting his gaze to his own hands. John let out a soft sigh. 

“Roger, I already told you. I’m sorry, but I can’t keep Queen together – besides, just Brian and I isn’t Queen anyway.” He said softly, clearly being made uncomfortable. Roger inhaled quickly and let out a large exhale, reaching over to gently grasp one of John’s hands. 

“I’m not asking you to make sure you two stay together – I get that’s not what you want.” He began, his breathing shaky and nervous. “What I am asking you – and I ask on behalf of myself and Freddie… is that you make sure the show goes on.” John’s face screwed up in confusion.   
“What?-“ He began, only to be cut off immediately by Roger.   
“Your show, Deaks.” He whispered, almost inaudible. “You make sure your show goes on. I don’t care what you’re doing – I don’t care if you lock yourself in your attic and play bass until you’re old and senile. But you make sure you do something. You have a family – a wife and kids – and you love them, and they love you.” He said quietly, emotion building behind his words. 

“Rog-“ He stuttered. “Where is all this coming from?” he mumbled, looking at his hands as he picked at one of his nails. Roger frowned deeply. 

“Freddie has noticed – in the last couple of months especially – that you’ve become rather distant. He was concerned about you; and then when you said you wouldn’t stick around with Brian… he was worried you had other ideas.” He muttered. John was red faced, and there were evident tears in his eyes; he nodded in reply to Roger, nonetheless

“Is this what Freddie is talking to Brian about?” John said quietly. Roger’s brows knitted together. 

“No… why would he be?” Roger said softly before putting two and two together. “Brian’s okay.” Roger said softly. John just gave him a look that sent guilt running through Roger’s body. “I- I will talk to him.” He whispered, earning a small nod from John. “Deaky?” He questioned, causing the man to look over at him, his eyes still red. “Regardless of the squabbles and quarrels, and all that bullshit… these were the best years of my life.” Roger admitted. Joh nodded. 

“Mine too, Rog; even if it all got a little much sometimes. I wouldn’t have traded it for engineering – not in a million years.” He said quickly, letting out a small chuckle. Roger watched him fondly. 

“I know you didn’t always feel the most listened to or important... I know we fought a lot…” Roger trailed off, running boney fingers over John’s hand. 

“Roger- we don’t have to do this.” John said quickly. 

“Yes, we do. I do.” Roger said defiantly. “I know that sometimes the rock star life was hard for you. But, we honestly couldn’t have done it without you. You are such an important part of Queen.” He said softly. John gave a weak nod as he looked at Roger. Roger leaned forward and gently placed his lips on John’s; he could feel the man flinch a little, but he didn’t pull away. It wasn’t a sensual or romantic kiss – nothing of the sort. It was more like 20 years of unspoken love and admiration for the bass player that truthfully – Roger didn’t know how to express in any other way. Last only a few seconds, it was sweet and pleasant. As they pulled apart, Roger noticed a blush on John’s cheeks. “I’m sorry.” Roger chuckled softly. “That was a bit weird…” John just shook his head. 

“I think it said all you needed to say.” He whispered, a small grin on his lips. 

“Deaky. You are such an important part of Queen; and mine, and Freddie’s, and Brian’s lives. You always will be – don’t you ever forget it.” Roger whispered, gently squeezing John’s hand. 

“I won’t” John whispered in return. 

“Good. Because; I love you.” Roger grinned widely. 

“Rog- don’t”

“Deaky – don’t not tell a dying man that you love him; you’ll regret it.” He whispered, placing his head back on John’s shoulder. 

“Fine. I love you.” John said shortly, but with enough sincerity that if it had been keeping Roger alive, he would have lived forever. 

“Mm… I really feel it.” He joked quietly, slowly shutting his eyes as he waiting peacefully for the other two.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The beginning of the end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't really know how to summarise this chapter other than 'it's gonna hurt' :((
> 
> I understand there are some inaccuracies in this chapter in regards to the actual events of Freddie's death (i.e. the exact timeline of Freddie's death and the people surrounding his at this time); however, I felt it necessary to preserve other accuracies of both history and this story.

**November 23rd, 1991**

**_Following the enormous conjecture in the press over the last two weeks, I wish to confirm that I have been tested HIV positive and have AIDS. I felt it correct to keep this information private to date to protect the privacy of those around me. However, this time had come now for my friends and fans around the world to know the truth and I hope that everyone will join with me, my doctors and all those worldwide in the fight against this terrible disease. My privacy has always been very special to me and I am famous for my lack of interviews. Please understand this policy will continue._ **

The statement had been released early that morning, and within mere hours it was being covered by news stations across the world. Even more people now lined the streets of the Garden Lodge; both paparazzi and fans trying to pry or pay their respects to the clearly ailing Freddie. The three of them – Roger, Brian and John – sat around Freddie’s bed, making sporadic conversation, but mostly sitting in silence. Freddie’s sight was not faring well, so he remained propped up on his bed and occasionally turned his head in the direction of his bandmates chatter. Roger sat closest to Freddie, his slim fingers running mindless circles over Freddie’s sleeve.

“Can I get you anything, Freddie?” Roger asked, in the smallest voice Brian had ever thought he’d heard Roger use – a world away from the Roger he’d met over two decades ago. Freddie slowly shook his head.

“No, darling; I’m absolutely fine.” He said softly, his voice hoarse and his breathing raspy. “Are you okay?” He asked in return. Roger couldn’t help but frown. He certainly wasn’t doing well, but he was in a far better position than Freddie; and the other man was still concerned with how he was.

“I’m fine, Fred.” He replied shortly, still focusing his eyes on the patterns he drew on Freddie’s sleeve.

“Are you tired, dear?” He said softly, his hand slowly and only slightly moved to aimlessly reach for Roger’s hands. Roger quickly shifted his fingers to interlock them with Freddie’s.

“A little.” He lied; he was absolutely exhausted. His entire body ached every minute of the day – there weren’t enough pain killers on earth to numb the amount of pain he was constantly in. But, he would and was putting all of that aside to be with Freddie. He knew – all four of them did – that Freddie was counting days at this point; and to Roger, spending those days with his friend was far more important than his aching limbs.

“You should go home and rest, my dear.” Freddie whispered. “Brian will bring you back tomorrow.” Roger frowned deeply.

“I can rest here.” He stated quietly; he really didn’t want to leave, but he was threatening to fall asleep where he sat.

“I’ll bring you back tomorrow, Rog. I promise.” Brian said softly, it hard to avoid the only conversation going on in the otherwise silent room. Roger’s gaze flicked over to Brian.

“First thing in the morning?” Roger asked quietly. Brian let out a gentle sigh.

“Jim or John can call us as soon as Freddie is ready to have visitors, okay?” He said quietly, reaching over to place his hand on Roger’s free one. “But, we really should be going, baby. You’re tired, and I’m sure Freddie wants to get some sleep, also.” Brian said logically, running his thumb over Roger’s hand. Roger nodded meekly.

“I’ll have them call you as soon as I’m awake, darling.” Freddie said to Roger; and despite Freddie not being able to see it, Roger smiled widely.

“Alright, I’ll see you tomorrow, Fred.” Roger said softly, slowly standing from his seat. Brian immediately stood and grabbed Roger’s waist to support him, no longer trusting his boyfriend’s strength.

“See you tomorrow, dear.” Freddie said quietly. Roger, using Brian as a point of contact, carefully leant down and placed a kiss on Freddie’s temple. Freddie flinched slightly, but soon brought a frail hand up to touch Roger’s cheek. Roger pulled away from Freddie, a soft smile on his face.

“Alright; c’mon, love.” Brian whispered, continuing to steady Roger as they walked towards the living room. “See you guys tomorrow. Call me if you need anything, yeah?” Brian called back. John let out a hummed okay and Brian gave the two remaining men a final grin before he and Roger left the room, and then the house.

 

**November 24th, 1991  
**  
Brian was up early that morning, unable to sleep from the stress of Freddie’s worsening condition. He was making himself a cup of tea, and generally pottering around the flat, trying to focus on something other than Freddie. He could always think about Roger instead, but that really wasn’t much better. They were both in an awful place at that point, but at least Roger hadn’t been rendered immobile, or blind. He was lethargic, and sickly, and constantly sore – Brian couldn’t even imagine the extent to which his body hurt. As he was standing in the kitchen, staring aimlessly as he let his thoughts collect him, the phone rang. He quickly moved to answer it.

“Hello. Brian speaking.” He said politely, now focusing on the phone call, rather than his negatively wondering thoughts.

“Brian; hi – it’s John.” He said softly. Brian couldn’t help but smile; it had not even gone 8 in the morning, and Freddie was happy to have Roger back. In the last months especially, the two of them had become unbelievably close, clearly understanding one another like no one else could. Until Freddie had become really bad, they would often spend the nights in bed together, cuddled up close as they slept.

“Hi, John,” Brian returned, a smile evident in his voice. “Is Freddie awake?” He said softly. There was hesitation on the line. “Rog is still asleep.”

“Uhh, yeah; he’s awake. I was actually calling to see if you’d be able to bring over some more painkillers? I didn’t know if you had any at your place; but maybe you wouldn’t mind grabbing some on the way? Freddie is in a lot of pain, but he doesn’t have any more prescriptions left – I thought Roger might…” he trailed off. “Sorry.” He added. Brian shook his head, not fully registering that John couldn’t see him.

“Don’t be stupid.” He said quickly. “We have a spare box here; I’ll bring them now.” He said softly.

“Thanks, Brian.” John said softly before the line went dead. Brian put the phone back on the hook and reached into the kitchen cabinet above his head, grabbing the packet of strong painkillers that he’d picked up for Roger the other day. He still had a half finished packet, so he wasn’t worried about taking them to Freddie’s. He slowly moved from the kitchen to their bedroom, peering inside to see a completely out of it Roger. He was soundly asleep, and Brian couldn’t bring himself to wake Roger, especially considering the pain he was in often made it difficult for the younger man to sleep. He let out a hefty sigh. He quickly reached for the notepad that was on their coffee table and scrawled a quick note.

 

 

Morning Roggie,  
I have just popped to Fred’s to take him some painkillers.   
Call his place as soon as you’re awake and I’ll come back and get you. I should only be 30 minutes anyway.  
I love you to the moon and back,  
Bri xxx

He placed it in his spot in the bed and quickly exited the house with the painkillers and keys, hoping to be as quick as possible to avoid leaving Roger alone for too long. He momentarily thanked the stars that Roger wasn’t yet at a point that he needed to be constantly watched, because he feared that Freddie and Roger both being at that point would be too much for all of them. He drove hastily to Freddie’s; the drive was only a few minutes. He was let inside and went straight through to Freddie’s room – he looked awful. As horrible as it is to say so, he looked like death.

“Hi, Fred.” He whispered, almost as if the voice had been knocked out of him by the sight in front of him. “I brought the painkillers.” He said softly, handing them to John, whose face was ghostly and sad. Brian gave him a concerned and panicked look.

“Thank you, dear.” He said hoarsely, the noises barely making up words between the ragged breathing and small coughs. Brian sat by his bedside, in the spot that Roger had the day before. He wanted to say something, ask if Freddie was okay, but he felt that it was in poor taste. Instead, he sat in silence. He could see the way that Freddie’s breathing was slowing, each breath further away from the last. He couldn’t help the panic rising in his chest; it was making him think about how he’d left Roger at home alone – he couldn’t help but fear the worse. As if my magic, he was snapped out of his own delusions by the sound of the phone ringing. He heard John answer it with a polite hello. Shortly after, he entered the room.

“It’s Roger.” He said quietly. Brian nodded and sprung from his chair and switched places with John; John sitting beside Freddie and Brian going to the phone.

“Hi baby. How are you feeling this morning? I’m sorry I left; Freddie needed some painkillers.” He said softly, subconsciously turning to the sick man’s bedroom.

“It’s okay.” Roger said back, surprising cheerily. “Can you come get me now?” Roger asked immediately, not caring to answer Brian’s previous question – but he figured he was okay. Brian could hear coming from Freddie’s room the sounds of his chunky coughing; he couldn’t help but frown at the thought of the man’s suffering.

“Yeah, Rog. I’ll leave now.”

“See you soon!” He sung raspy

“See you soon.” Brian returned. He hung up the phone and turned back to Freddie’s bedroom, ready to tell them he was going to go get Roger, but the sounds of Freddie’s coughing was deafening, even before he reentered the room. He reached Freddie’s doorway to see John and Jim both standing, panic crossing their faces, clearly unsure what to do with the man practically choking before them. “What’s going on?” Brian whispered; not to his surprise, he received no response. He took an apprehensive step closer to the bed, Freddie’s coughing starting to slow, but his breathing still ragged and spaced out. He was now standing next to Freddie’s bed as the older man’s breaths became more and more infrequent. He was scared to exchange glances with the other two men in the room, but as he did, he noticed them both sitting quietly, hands resting gently on his arms. Brian could hardly describe it; it went by so slow and yet so fast at the same time. Slow in the sense that it felt like Brian should have been doing something to help his friend, but fast in the way that before Brian could understand the full extent of what was happening before him, his dear friend had passed. Jim leant over to place a cheek before Freddie’s lips, likely feeling for a breath.

“He’s not breathing.” He said quietly.

“I’ll umm- I’ll call the doctor.” John said softly; Brian couldn’t read his face – it appeared emotionless. They caught eyes for a brief moment and it seemed like something clicked within John. “Roger…” was all he could get out; his face went dark, like he was going to burst at any minute.

“I had umm… I told him I was gonna leave to come get him.” Brian whispered, his eyes darting from John to Freddie.

“You should go… Don’t keep him waiting – he’ll worry.” John said softly, still no emotion evident in his voice, despite the situation. Brian nodded slowly.

“You’ll be okay here?” Brian asked as he reached for his keys.

“Yeah.” John replied quietly. “You’ll be okay… getting home… and talking to Roger?” He said quietly, finally shooting Brian an empathetic look.

“Yeah; I’ll be okay.” Brian whispered. “I’ll umm… I’ll call when I’m home.” He mumbled. John responded with a nod and Brian headed mindlessly for the door. He got in his car and just sat for a moment. Sure, he was wigging out about watching Freddie die in front of him, but nothing was going to prepare if for having to tell Roger – especially when he was sitting at home, waiting to be picked up and taken to see Freddie.

 

Brian stepped out of the car and headed into their flat. He opened the door and was greeted by Roger, already dressed and waiting on the arm of the couch. He didn’t even let Brian come inside properly before he was walking towards the door to leave. He was nibbling a dry biscuit as he practically skipped – as best as he could – to the front door. This time yesterday, that would have been enough to put a smile on Brian’s face – the skipping, and the fact that he was eating something willingly, as opposed to being forced. But today, it was making his stomach do somersaults. He didn’t want to be the one to tell Roger – he didn’t want anyone to have to tell Roger. As sadistic as it sounds – he would have preferred that Roger be there when it happened, at least no one would have to break the news. Brian let out a shaky sigh; in hindsight, he should have just woken him up and taken him to Freddie’s that morning.

“Roger, honey; just, slow down. Let’s sit for a moment.” Brian whispered, placing a shaky hand on Roger’s arm.

“We can sit in the car.” Roger chuckled softly, clearly not sensing his boyfriend’s anguish.

“Roger; we need to talk.” Brian said a little more seriously. This seemed to snap Roger out of it.

“Can we talk in the car?” He said carefully. Brian looked down and shook his head slowly.

“Let’s just sit.” Brian concluded, leading Roger to the couch. He sat him down in front of him and angled himself to look at Roger, although he wasn’t sure that he was going to be able to actually look at Roger. “Roger…” He began, his words shaky and unclear. “When I took Freddie the painkillers he was looking really bad. His cough wasn’t going well and his breathing was really bad.” He said softly, trying with all his might to maintain eye contact with Roger. “Just after we got off the phone, he got really bad. He- he stopped breathing.” He whispered, searching Roger for any sign of impending hysteria or rage.

“So…” Roger whispered, looking at Brian with a mix of confusion and fear. Brian sighed softly, understanding that Roger hadn’t understood the extent to which Brian was getting at.

“He stopped breathing, Rog.” He repeated. “He didn’t make it – he’s gone.” He said, the finality of admitting it hitting him like a bus. Roger was silent for a moment, and his face didn’t waiver. He finally opened his mouth, clearly mid chew by the way part of his biscuit sat on his lip.

“No…” he finally said, soft and shaky. Brian let out a gentle breath and wrapped Roger up in his long arms. He was worried; he wasn’t sure if Roger was going to fight him in a fit of rage, or accept the hug. Thankfully, it was the latter. He let his face smoosh into Brian’s chest. Brian could feel him starting to shake; his breaths were quickening and his sniffles increasing. Brian didn’t know what to do – he didn’t think there was anything he could do besides hold Roger. He, himself didn’t know what to do with the emotional situation he was in. They stayed like that for several minutes; the phone had rung but they both ignored it. It was probably just John wanting to ensure Brian had gotten home okay. But, he didn’t feel as if John could blame him for letting the call go. Brian felt Roger pull away after what was probably close to fifteen minutes.

“I didn’t get to say goodbye…” Roger whispered, his voice raspy and small. Brian’s heart ached for the boy.

“It’s okay…” Brian said in return; although he truly felt as if he was lying through his teeth. It wasn’t okay; and Brian wasn’t sure it would ever be okay again.

“No…” Roger croaked. “I didn’t get to tell him how much he means to me.”

“Roger, he knows…” Brian sighed, gently caressing his boyfriend’s arm. Roger was now crying intensely.

“No…” He repeated. “No!” he yelled, standing up quickly, but staggering a little from the sudden rush of blood to his head. Brian stood and grabbed him, pulling him tight into his chest. “I didn’t get to tell him…” Roger whispered, his back against Brian’s chest. Brian rocked them gently.

“He knows… Rog, I swear on all the stars in the sky that he knows. He knows that you love him; he knows how much he means to you – and you mean so much to him. He knows everything you want to tell him and more. He knows…” he whispered. Roger tipped his head back onto Brian’s shoulder and squeezed his eyes shut tight.

“You mean, he knew…” Roger whispered, and Brian felt his heart break.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... that was a lot - but I'd really love to know what you thought regardless. All the love for the comments, kudos' and support so far - it means so much!


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roger is left in the aftermath of Freddie's death - but, he's most certainly not coping

**December 18th, 1991**

Brian awoke to the sound of banging. No, not banging - smashing. Smashing like the sound glass makes when it hits the ground. He sat bolt upright and looked beside him to see Roger was gone. He pushed himself from the bed, sliding on his slippers, and venturing into the living area. From his position at their bedroom door, the sound became clearer - and Brian has been spot on - smashing. He slowly ventured into the kitchen, wondering whether there was some sort of animal running amok in their kitchen, or if there had been an intruder that Roger was trying to fend off - though Brian couldn’t imagine Roger being able to fight anyone these days. Once upon a time, he would have been the first one ready for a fight, but nowadays, he couldn’t even picture his physically weak and gaunt Roger fighting anyone. As he reached the kitchen, he let out an audible gasp. Roger was standing in the middle of a mess of shattered ceramic, tears running down his face. He looked him once over and noticing that he was barefoot, he quickly stepped towards him and lifted him gently so he was at least standing on Brian’s covered feet.

“Rog...” Brian began, holding the much smaller man close to his body.

“I’m sorry!” Roger sobbed loudly, burying himself in Brian. “I’m sorry...” he repeated.

“It’s okay.” Brian said softly, trying to sooth Roger by running his fingers through his hair. “Roger, baby. What’s going on? What happened?” He muttered. Roger pulled back from Brian’s chest slightly to look up at him.

“I-umm... I couldn’t sleep; so, I came to make a cup of tea. But, I umm- I just...” he trailed off, looking away from Brian.

“Roger... please talk to me.” Brian whispered, as delicately as he could muster.

“I freaked out.” Roger admitted, scanning the broken tea cups on the floor. “I was trying to make tea and I thought about Freddie and how... it’s not fair.” He muttered. “It’s not fair!” He repeated louder. “It’s not fair and... and I’m scared and I don’t want to die...” Roger practically yelled, before beginning to cry. Brian held him close, worried that letting him go would mean he’d collapse into the shards of china beneath them. They remained like that for longer than Brian cared to remember - in silence, as Brian stroked various parts on Roger, in an attempt to calm him down, even slightly. After sometime, Roger pulled away and looked up at Brian, his cheeks wet and his face red. “I don’t wanna die, Bri.” Roger whispered. It felt like his big blue eyes were piercing through Brian, and he could feel his heartbreaking. What was he supposed to do? What could be honestly say? As badly as he wanted to envelope Roger and swallow him with his arms, telling him that it was all going to be okay - he couldn’t. He couldn’t lie to Roger like that; and, even if he wanted to, Roger knew the truth. He was going to die. He was going to succumb to this horrible disease that had already stolen the lives of hundreds of thousands. Just like Freddie. As hard as he was fighting, there was nothing he could do. Brian swallowed thickly, unable to properly meet Roger’s gaze. The last three weeks had been so hard on all of them. It had quite literally felt like the world had stopped spinning; and not even Brian knew for a second how to get on with his life, let alone bring Roger down from a constant state of panic and self-loathing.

 

_”I shouldn’t have left.” Brian heard being muttered from the spot in the bed beside him. He glanced at the clock beside his bed – it was 2:37am. Turning back over, he was met with Roger, sitting in bed and holding his extremities tightly in a ball. “I shouldn’t have left. I should have stayed with him. Stupid, stupid, stupid!” The croaky and teary voice chanted. Brian sighed softly and sat up. It had been two days since Freddie had died – and thank the stars for Deaky, because with himself, Jim and Mary taking care of all the less-than-desirable after thoughts; Brian had been able to focus on Roger, and the clear fact that he was not coping. Brian let out a quiet sigh and rolled over properly._

_“Roger… baby. Lie down; it’s almost three in the morning.” Brian whispered, reaching a hand over to touch Roger’s arm. It was like talking to a wall; Roger didn’t even flinch. He stared mindlessly into nothing and shook, his eyes screwed tight as he muttered ‘I’m sorry’s’ to a Freddie that was no longer there. Brian let out a louder sigh and sat up, reaching over and effortlessly lifting Roger into his lap. He rocked them both gently; when Roger finally passed out from the exhaustion of not sleeping for the past two days, it was 7:54am. Brian carefully laid him down in the bed and got up ready to make breakfast, praying Roger would stay asleep for a few hours._

 

It had been getting better over the weeks; by no means good, or even okay, but Roger could now sleep through most of the night without Brian having to squeeze him out of a guilt-ridden nightmare. In the last couple of days, Roger had even been able to crack a smile or half-laugh and one of Brian’s jokes. Brian had thought he was doing okay, but clearly it was a cover up for Roger’s constant state of panic. Brian finally chose to speak, needing to cut the silence with something – worried that said silence was leaving Roger to overthink everything.

“How about… you go have a seat on the couch? You can put on a movie, and I’ll get everything cleaned up in here?” he said gently. Roger sniffled and gave a quick nod. Brian slowly manoeuvred them to the lounge room, walking with Roger’s bare feet still on top of his.

“I’m sorry…” Roger whispered huskily as they moved. Brian shook his head quickly, trying hard to hide the frown on his face. “I really wanted to be able to keep it together… like you guys. I just couldn’t. I can’t stop thinking about it. About how we said we’d see each other… and then we didn’t. It’s making me so… so nervous!” He cried, whimpers starting again. Brian gently rubbed his back in an attempt to sooth him as they reached the couch and Brian sat him down. “What if I never see Deaky again?” He asked, his voice shaky with tears. “Everyone’s so busy organising things for Fred – and they should be. But, what if while it’s all happening, I go? I won’t get to say goodbye… I already didn’t get to say goodbye to Freddie…” he mumbled, and Brian could see his eyes glaze over for a moment. “What if I don’t get to say goodbye to anyone?” He whispered nervously. Brian frowned deeply and held Roger close to his body. It was calm for a moment before he felt Roger tense up. “What if I die in my sleep; or while you’ve got out to get something? Then I wouldn’t get to say goodbye to you!” He said quickly, and Brian could see and feel the panic coursing through him.

“Roger- Roger.” He said quickly, holding his arms tight between long fingers. “I’m not going to go anywhere. You need to calm down. Everyone knows how much you love them.” He stated softly. Roger started to deflate, leaning back into the couch and away from Brian. Brian stood and moved to put a VHS tape in the VCR player. “I’m going to go clean up the kitchen. I’m literally 3 metres away. Let me know if you need anything.” He whispered, giving Roger a gentle peck on his sweaty forehead before moving to the kitchen. Brian cleaned and Roger watched the movie in silence. It was comfortable, but as of late, Brian hated silences. They gave him far too much time to think – about Freddie, and Roger – about all the silences that would surely exist in his life once Roger was gone and John had disappeared into obscurity. Brian hated silences – he decided he would forevermore.

“Brian, when I go...” Roger’s raspy voice startled Brian as it broke the silence, but he immediately turned to the younger man. The words themselves cut through Brian; he knew there was no avoiding it, but he didn’t like talking so candidly about what was coming. “Tell them how it happened.” He whispered, a shakiness in his voice. Brian looked up at him properly, slightly taken aback.

“Are you sure, Rog?” He questioned carefully. They’d already discussed this ad-nauseam and Brian thought they’d come to an agreeable plan: they would release a statement saying that Roger had succumb to tuberculosis after his latent TB had been aggravated and made active through excessive smoking. Brian felt like he could recite the statement in his sleep. It was foolproof. No one would deny that Roger could have died from a disease related to smoking, and no one could deny how sick he was starting to look. No one, his family included, would ever know that he had what the world still defined as ‘the gay plague’, and no one would ever know about him and Brian. It was perfect - as perfect as his lovers death sentence being covered, and he not really getting to grieve the way a boyfriend should, Brian thought. But, Roger had been happy with that outcome nonetheless; and now he wanted to change it.

“I’m sure.” Roger said defiantly. Regardless of how sick he continued to look, not a day went by that Roger didn’t defy or backchat something Brian said, and Brian would be lying if he said it didn’t make him grin. “I want them to know.” He continued, confidence evident in his raspy voice. “I want to stand with Fred; he’s not alone. He never was; and, I never was. I want them to know that we went out fighting, together. I owe him that much.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're getting so close to the end! There's only three chapter left. I kind of don't want it to end. I've grown so attached to this story. But, alas; it has to. Please, as always, let me know what you think. I absolutely love reading your comments. Thanks for all the support so far, I hope you guys enjoy this chapter.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roger receives a message from Freddie that he desperately needed, and stops John from leaving a little too soon.

**February 26th, 1992**

It had now been just over three months since Freddie had passed away; and it had been dull and bland to say the least. Not only because of the vibrant character that was Freddie Mercury, but because actually doing anything felt joyless without him. Christmas and New Year’s had been pitiful, consisting of moping and tears. Roger especially, had a hard time whenever any seemingly positive event left time for him to think about Freddie not being there. They had spent Christmas and New Year’s together – John included. He hadn’t left yet like he said he would and Brian considered that maybe he had changed his mind and realised that he did need to be around them. Valentine’s Day had gone by rather depressingly, despite Brian trying his best to treat Roger to what was likely – although Brian would never say such a thing to his boyfriend – his last.

_”Is it not good?” Brian frowned, watching Roger flick bits of his dinner around his plate with his fork. Roger looked up and connected their eyes, frowning back at his boyfriend._

_“No… it really is, Brian. I’m sorry; I just can’t stomach it.” He sighed quietly. Roger had not had a decent appetite since he started getting quite sick, but since Freddie had passed it had been virtually non-existent. There were days that Brian would very literally have to force him to eat dry toast just to consume enough calories to continue living._

_“I guess I should have thought that through, huh?” Brian chuckled quietly, trying to make light of the situation that had now become their whole lives. Roger gave him a clearly forced chuckle, causing Brian to sigh gently and stand from his seat._

_“I’m sorry…” Roger whispered, not making eye contact with Brian._

_“Oh, baby. You don’t have to be sorry. I’m not mad, or upset, or anything.” Brian said quickly, moving to crouch beside Roger and put his arms around him. “I just really wanted to make today special.” Brian heard Roger sniffle and pulled back to see his eyes wet and red. “Hey- hey… it’s okay. You don’t need to cry, Rog” He frowned, running a hand through his blonde hair. “C’mon. Let’s go sit down in the lounge and have a cuddle.” He whispered. Roger nodded meekly and let Brian scoop him into his arms, both of them ignoring the half eaten plates of food. They reached the couch and Brian sat with Roger still on his lap, Roger shifted to rest his head gently on Brian’s shoulder. He was humming; Brian couldn’t quite make out what. He turned to look at his boyfriend quizzically, before Roger noticed and stopped, a small smile on his face._

_“Whatcha singing, baby?” Brian whispered, the two men so close their noses were gently grazing against each other._

_“The Show Must Go On.” He whispered, his cheeks tinted red as if he was embarrassed. Brian smiled fondly and pressed a chaste kiss to Roger’s dry lips._

_“Wrote that for you and Fred.” Brian whispered, beginning to litter Roger’s cheeks with small pecks._

_“I know…” Roger whispered, his eyes closed as he reaped in the flurry of kisses. “It’s a really nice song.” Brian smiled and pressed his lips heavily against Roger’s, holding his tightly by the waist. The kiss was short, but passionate and meaningful. As Brian pulled away he saw the grin fall from Roger’s face._

_“What’s wrong?” Brian asked quietly, moving his free hand to run fingers through Roger’s locks._

_“Just thinking about Freddie.” Roger mumbled, eyes dropping to avoid meeting Brian’s concerned gaze. “I know you keep saying that it’s okay… but I can’t help but feel so guilty that I wasn’t there for him. I just wish I could have said one last goodbye… had one last moment with him.” He mumbled, his voice sounding frustrated and anguished. Brian let out a quivered sigh and moved Roger from his lap to the couch in order to stand. “I’m sorry, Brian. I’m sorry I keep whining.” Roger almost pleaded as Brian disappeared into their bedroom. He returned not 30 seconds later, clutching a small bag. He noticed Roger’s puzzled look, and couldn’t help but chuckle. “What have you got?” Roger whispered huskily, adjusting himself to sit up straighter and look up at Brian._

_“It’s from Freddie. He gave it to me when we were filming Innuendo. He said I’d know when the right time to give it to you was; and, I think it’s now.” Brian whispered before urging the bag into Roger’s lap, sitting beside him. Roger looked confused for a moment further before opening the brown paper bag and peering inside. Brian could see the look of confusion mixed with a soft smirk forming on Roger’s face as he pulled the object out of the bag._

_“Maracas?” He smirked, before letting out a soft chuckle. Brian just smiled at his boyfriend, letting him take it all in. Roger looked at them quizzically before stopping where a message had been scrawled onto them in permanent marker._

**For you, Roger. I’m sorry I couldn’t wait for you, my dear – I do very much enjoy coming first. Do not beat yourself up, for I know you will likely try. Remember, most of life is luck, and mine is simply running out – make the most of your luck. Never stop being the loud and obnoxious fairy that you are, darling. Yours truly, Freddie Mercury.**

_Brian watched Roger read it over and over; his eyes scanning the small wooden object far more times than necessary._

_“Why?” Roger mumbled, looking up at Brian. He could tell Roger was trying to keep it together, but the tears brimming in his eyes suggested he was about to breakdown._

_“I think…” Brian began cautiously. “I think it was his way of saying goodbye to you. Because he knew how much you loved each other, and that you would beat yourself up once he was gone. He didn’t want that for you – you’re his best friend. Not were – are. ” Brian said quietly, moving his hand to gently thumb Roger’s thin wrist, hoping to provide him with some comfort. Roger let out a shaky breath._

_“I think I need a minute… thank you for the dinner, Bri… and for giving me this.” He whispered, slowly standing up. Brian stood out of reflex, reaching to grip Roger’s hips. “I think I can manage – I’m just heading to the bed.” Roger muttered. Brian nodded and watched him walk shakily to their bedroom, not relaxing until he was inside. Brian cleaned up from their untouched dinner. When he did make his way to bed he saw Roger curled up tightly, maracas cradled in his arms._

Now, not even two weeks later, they all sat around Roger’s bed, talking about what they had gotten up to the last few days. It was mostly uncomfortable silence however. Brian and Roger hadn’t done much more than what they were doing right then; sitting around the bed and talking. Roger wasn’t capable of walking on his own anymore; his body too thin and frail. He much preferred to stay in bed anyway, claiming he felt bad that Brian had to be at his beck-and-call, let alone carry him around the flat. Brian would occasionally leave to fetch something from the kitchen or living room, but he hadn’t left the flat in at least two weeks now. In those last two weeks, since their pitiful attempt at a Valentine’s dinner, Roger had gotten significantly worse. He was so thin he could barely move his arms without being in excruciating pain. Purple lesions covered his entire body and he was incapable of eating anything more than a smoothie that Brian would force him to drink. But, he could still talk – provided he didn’t get too spacey and forget what they were talking about – so that’s what they were doing – sort of. John wasn’t uttering much more than a hum as Roger tried desperately to fumble through more topics to avoid uncomfortable silence.

“I’m just going to get some more water and make myself a cup of tea. I’ll be right back, okay Roger?” Brian said softly. Roger responded with a gentle nod. “Did you want some tea, Deaky?” Brian asked, turning his attention to the silent man by Roger’s bedside. He simply shook his head, barely making eye contact with Brian. Brian gave a swift nod and exited the room. After a few moments of almost unbearable silence, John gave a strangled cough and began to stand.

“I- I should go. I don’t want to intrude on things with the two of you.” He said softly, grabbing his messenger bag leaning beside the bed.

“You’re not.” Roger responded quickly, painfully craning his neck to look at John. He was thankful he hadn’t lost his sight like Freddie; he didn’t like seeing how the older man would get spooked by sudden voices in the silence.

“Uhh- well. I should go anyway. It’s late and Ronny is probably worried.” He muttered awkwardly, hand rubbing the back of his neck while he looked anywhere but at Roger.

“She knows where you are, Deaky.” Roger rebutted, a hurt look on his face. John caught a glimpse of said look and quickly turned away. “John?” Roger said softly just before John exited the room. He turned and looked at the frail man. Roger could see how his eyes were beginning to water and his lip quiver.

“Yes, Roger?” He whispered, his voice unmeasurably shaky.

“You said – when we were recording The Show Must Go On – that you loved me.” He whispered. “Did you mean it?” He asked, eyes staring John down.

“Rog-“ John began to object, but was quickly cut off by Roger.

“Did you mean it?” He repeated, with even more conviction than before.

“Of course I did, Rog.” John said softly, taking a step closer to Roger, now standing at the end of the bed.

“Then stay.” Roger stated simply. John opened his mouth as if to respond, but Roger continued. “Not forever. Stay… until I go.” He muttered. There was a moment of still silence in which the two youngest both knew that the inevitable Roger spoke of was not far off. “Please… I won’t spend my last moments wishing you were here. It’s enough to not have Freddie.” Roger mumbled; he noticed the way that the older man’s name made John flinch. “Please?” He repeated, hoping that his pleading eyes were enough. John let out a loud sigh and slowly moved to resume his place beside Roger. Without another word, John reached over to connect this hand with Roger’s frailer one. They remained in silence for several minutes, listening only to the sounds of Brian pottering around the kitchen. Roger sat there for most of the silence, trying to collect all his thoughts about the things he wanted to tell John, so stressed about not getting to say his goodbyes to Freddie that he was determined to not let it happen again. He wanted to tell him everything; every little thing he couldn’t possibly leave unsaid. He turned to John to open his mouth and verbal diarrhea all over him, but it appeared that John was about to do the same.

“Roger- would you be okay if my kids knew the truth… about you… and about you and Brian?” he asked quietly. Roger was a bit taken aback. This wasn’t exactly the final goodbyes he was expecting when he saw John getting ready to speak.

“Uhh- no… I mean, yes. I mean… you can tell them about me and Brian.” He muttered. “Why?” He added, hoping John would enlighten him. John was silent for a moment, as if he was trying to formulate the perfect way to answer Roger.

“I think… that they deserve to know all about their Uncle Roger – maybe even as a word of warning.” John breathed out a chuckle so soft that Roger wasn’t entirely sure that he didn’t imagine it. His worries were subdued when John continued. “You and Brian are a real testament to what a good marriage is… not that you ever got to… stupid laws and all…” he trailed, clearly trying not to offend Roger. “I just think – to be able to stay with someone for that long and never really be able to tell anyone – it must have been hard… but you two never wavered.” He muttered.

“I would have loved to marry Brian…” Roger whispered out of nowhere, almost as if it was is subconscious talking. He felt John give his hand a gentle squeeze.

“He would have too.” John whispered. “I also think they’ve got to learn to stand up for themselves from somewhere… so I’m going to have to tell them about you and Freddie; or they’ll end up softies like me and Brian.” He grinned, his fingers running circles over Roger’s hand. Roger could feel himself grinning widely.

“You can tell your kids anything you want about me – everything.” He grinned, doing his best to squeeze John’s hand back, despite being in immense pain.

“Trust me, Rog… For their sake – I’m definitely not telling them everything.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's so close to the end; only two chapters to go! Oh my goodness! I don't want it to end; I like writing his story so much that I think I'm going to miss it. Please let me know what you think - I love hearing what you all have to say about the story and how it makes you feel.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roger gets his goodbyes.

**March 2nd, 1992**

From the moment Brian returned to the room with his cup of tea, things had gone downhill. The last three days had been bad to say the least. Roger was no longer eating – and try as he might, Brian could no longer force foods or fluid into him. He sat at his bedside – John on the other side – and the whole situation felt like déjà vu; sadly reminiscent of the scene that took place in Freddie’s bedroom just months ago – three people saying goodbye, missing someone very important… soon to be missing another. Brian had not made eye contact with John or Roger the entire day. He had looked at Roger – in fact, he hadn’t taken his eyes off of Roger. But he hadn’t done his poor boyfriend the justice of looking him in the eyes. Brian knew that if he did, he would crack. He could already feel the mix of panic and straight-up bile so high in his throat that it was just begging for an excuse to come out. Brian had spent the last few hours and days trying to find ways to keep busy; whether it was making tea or tending to Roger in a way that didn’t involve having to sit and stare into his big blue eyes. John had been and gone the day before, letting Brian and Roger spend the evenings together, but was back early in the morning, as soon as Brian gave him a call. Brian noticed the way John was carefully stroking Roger’s palm; John seemed to have a certain way in times like this, so calm and collected despite how messed up and wrong it all was. Brian wished he could have been like that – to be fair, he had been reasonably calm when Freddie passed, but that was marginally different. He figured that Freddie’s death was to him, what Freddie and Roger’s deaths were to John. Roger’s death was inexplicable to Brian – there was not an inch of his body that relayed calmness; it was as if a part of him was being forcibly removed from his being. He was removed from his overthinking as his eyes caught the way that Roger’s eyes followed him, as if he wanting to say or do something, but couldn’t. Brian let out an inaudible sigh and shuffled closer to Roger’s bedside; he could feel his nervousness in his fingertips.

“Do you need anything?” Brian asked, gently touching Roger’s exposed forearm. He was cold – even more so than usual; and his skin was purplish and patchy – beyond the lesions even. It was starting to appear mottled. It made Brian subconsciously twitch. “Do you need to use the bathroom?” Brian questioned, to which Roger simply shook his head. It was currently 4:00pm, and Roger hadn’t – to Brian’s knowledge – used the bathroom since the prior morning. Brian was no biologist, but he had taken a few basic anatomy classes during high school and his early years of university. He knew about active dying – the stage just before someone dies where it became predictable. _’Active dying is the final phase of the dying process in which the patient exhibits near-death signs and symptoms; said phase usually lasts three days.’_ He recalled it from one of his textbooks. He couldn’t remember all the details; he was no biologist – but Roger was. That being said, Brian wasn’t sure that recalling the phases of death that he learnt in his studies was Roger’s top priority right now. “I’m going to go get you some water. Do you think you can try drinking some of it?” Brian asked gently, running his fingers through Roger’s hair to get it out of his eyes. He could see the way Roger relaxed at Brian’s touch, almost as if Brian was the painkiller that Roger needed. Brian continued on for a minute or two before going back to their conversation. “Roger?” Brian questioned, received a content hum from Roger. “I’m going to get you some water. Can you try drinking it?” Brian asked again. Roger looked up at Brian and gave a weak nod.

“I can try…” he croaked, his lips curling into a small smile. Brian couldn’t understand how despite his condition, Roger could still smile at Brian – or at anything. He had even heard him laughing at a joke John had said earlier that day. Brian returned the smile reluctantly and turned quickly, more as an excuse to exit the room. He felt bad about being so desperate to get out of the room that his dying boyfriend needed him in, but he couldn’t look around at the room they’d shared the last decade and a half without it stirring up some unwanted emotions. Brian thought about how that modest bedroom had serviced them well – considering their relationship never went further than within Queen. It was where Brian told Roger he was gay – standing nervously by the door in case he needed to make a run for it. The same room that they confessed they did indeed fancy one other – Roger was drunk; but, it made the situation easier nonetheless. It was where they first kissed, blissfully unaware of the fact John had just popped over to drop off some repair parts for the Deaky Amp – that was how they very much became a ‘thing’ in the band. It was the same room in which they made love for the first time – the same time that Roger took Brian’s virginity; it had been messy and a bit awkward as the new lovers found their way around each other’s bodies. But, as the years went on, it became much like they were two bodies that shared the same brain – every movement processed jointly through one enamored connection. It was the very bedroom that they first told each other they loved each other; where they vowed to spend the rest of their lives together – Brian can’t help but feel such a circumstance as this doesn’t adhere to those rules. It was where they had stayed up far too late after a gig one night, talking about how in another time and place, with different jobs and circumstances, they would love to have children together; little ‘cherubs’, as Roger called them, all running amok, as Roger would encourage – Brian laughed at the thought of Roger becoming even more childish with kids to contend with. More than anything, it was where Brian and Roger had shared their lives together; in it with each other through everything – big, small, easy, hard. They were truly bending that testament until it broke at this point. The memories were bittersweet to Brian in more ways than one – at what point in their timeline had Roger’s HIV transpired into AIDS, and had there been signs all along? This was something Brian had been beating himself up about endlessly since the day they stepped out of the HIV clinic. He wondered from the minute he was given a diagnosis far less sinister than Roger’s whether there was a moment years prior – something small and at the time insignificant that should have meant more to Brian – something that could have changed everything. Brian knew if Roger could hear him beating himself up, he would get a scolding – even in Roger’s current state. Brian stood at the sink, leaning against it with his palms on the edge of the bench. He was trying so desperately to calm down; he didn’t want Roger to see him freaking out – not that he’d done a particularly fantastic job of hiding it prior to his moment. He could here gentle murmuring – even from the kitchen, he could make out the difference between John’s monotone voice and Roger’s high-pitched and now croaky one. Brian wondered what they were talking about; part of him wanted to go listen, but he feared if they were saying their goodbyes, he one: felt it was in poor taste; and two: wasn’t sure he could bear to hear it. After a few minutes, when Brian felt the murmuring had subsided, he made his way back to the bedroom, a glass of water in his shaky hand. He stopped when he reached the door to find the two younger mens’ discussion was not yet over.

“You and Brian have to take care of each other…” Roger mumbled, his words slightly slowed and slurred. Brian could help but frown; every time he looked back at Roger he was less of the man he’d known for most of his life – it was without a doubt the most heartbreaking thing to watch. Brian’s eyes flicked to John; he was simply nodding in response, holding Roger’s hand and stroking calloused fingers up and down his forearm.

“We will, Roger.” John whispered, lifting Roger’s hand to give it a gentle peck. Brian had to suppress a smile, figuring that John was likely just saying that to bring Roger comfort in his final moments. Brian could feel himself starting to cry; the tingle behind eyes and nose, and the pain in his jaw as he clenched it, trying to will away the tears. His fingers were gripping to glass so hard, he had to force himself to loosen his grip, lest shatter the glass.

“Thanks for everything, Deaks.” Roger said softly, letting out a small and breathless chuckle. The sound hurt Brian’s heard – he knew it hurt John’s too. By the way the ever-fragile man flinched and visibly tightened his grip on Roger’s hand.

“You don’t have to thank me for anything, Rog. I should be thanking you – I would have lived such a boring life without you.” John said softly, a genuine smile on his face; Roger held one too. There was a moment of silence, in which they both seemed to be thinking about those years – Roger trying to rope John into his shenanigans, and John going simply to ensure Roger didn’t end up dead. They stayed like that for a while before John stood, releasing Roger’s hand from his vice like grip and leaning over to hug him gently. Brian watched as John gripped the frail man; Roger didn’t move, but his eyes shut tight. Brian hoped that John could sense that, that was him hugging back. John pulled back and the pair made a few seconds of eye contact.

“I’m going to get Brian, okay?” John whispered, evident in the shakiness that he was starting to cry. Brian quickly tucked himself behind the doorframe, not wanting John to see he’d been eavesdropping when he turned around. Roger nodded in response to John and he turned to go find Brian. He met him just outside the bedroom door, stopping dead in his tracks as the two men stood toe-to-toe. “Brian-“ John whispered, breathless and with tear-stained cheeks. Brian didn’t know what to do – there wasn’t really anything either of them could do in that moment. He placed a gentle hand on John’s upper arm, hoping that the younger man found some comfort in it. “Brian; I think you should go in there and say your goodbyes… I don’t think he’s got long.” John whispered, and Brian could tell how every word broke John just a little more. Brian nodded shakily and stepped past John to enter the room. Roger and Brian locked eyes as Brian moved to sit beside his ailed lover. In that moment, it was like they both knew. This was it; it was time to say goodbye. It was some sort of unspoken correspondence in which Roger and Brian mutually understood this would more than likely be the last conversation they would ever properly have – the last moment together. Roger did his best to reach his thin and sickly hand out to Brian, weak fingers outstretched to him. Brian look a step towards Roger to sit down, but something in him made him freeze. He didn’t know why, but every inch of his body was telling him to get out of there. Like sirens and red flags in his mind; so he did.

“I- umm. I have to…” He muttered, not finishing his sentence as he exited the bedroom, leaving Roger to stare at the space he once occupied, the presence of their unspoken correspondence meaning that Brian had acknowledged and chosen to leave him at a time like this. Roger looked to John, standing in the doorway, who was just as shocked and confused as Roger himself.

“I’ll umm… I’ll go see what he’s doing. I’ll be right back.” John mumbled, making foot to leave before turning and walking quickly to give Roger a gentle kiss on the forehead. “Just relax. I love you, Rog.” He whispered, and before Roger could respond, he was gone. John exited the bedroom to find Brian in the hallway, pacing frantically and uttering words to himself. In any other moment, John would have sassed him about being insane, or made snide remarks about pacing with his giant legs; but, he couldn’t get beyond the utter confusion – and honestly, rage – that was bubbling within him. “Brian-“ He said, a little more forcefully than intended. Brian turned to look at John – he himself couldn’t work out if it was slow or fast – he felt like the world around him was operating in slow motion, but seemed fast enough to make him feel queasy. He didn’t have to respond to John; John was already moving closer to him and lurched forward to tightly squeeze the taller man’s shoulders. “What are you doing?” He asked sternly, his gaze on Brian a sort of look he couldn’t quite place; it was both angry and empathetic; like John couldn’t work out whether to hug Brian, or punch him in the face.

“I- I don’t know… I just- I can’t be in there. I can’t do it.” Brian whispered, his fingers fiddling aimlessly in front of his chest. John let out a gentle, but loud sigh.

“Brian…” he whispered, his voice cold, but his gaze sympathetic. “You need to go in there and be with him.” He spoke softly, hands now grazing the sides of Brian’s upper arms. Brian’s gaze was glued to the floor.

“I- I can’t.” Brian mumbled, his bottom lip beginning to protrude and quiver.

“You have to.” John said simply. “You don’t want to acknowledge it – but you have to say goodbye. You know how much it means to Roger.” John mumbled. Brian was sure it was supposed to act as a pep talk, but it just made his stomach knot up even more. He didn’t want to think about the last goodbye – he didn’t want to think about the last anything. But, if in the last several months someone had told him he’d be having a lot of ‘lasts’, maybe he would have thought about them a little more. The last time he and Roger would wake up and go make their cups of tea together – messing around in the kitchen not meant for two people; but the two of them not caring, just wanting to be close to one another on a quiet Saturday morning; the last time they would make love, getting to explore every inch of each other, as if they hadn’t been doing it for the last fifteen years; the last time the band was whole again – all four of them sitting together, talking, laughing; the last time he looked at Roger and saw that devilish smirk boring right through him, reminding him of all the infinite possible ways in which he loved Roger. In hindsight, he should have savored them all a little better – hindsight; what a beautiful thing. Brian couldn’t help but admit that John was right. Getting to say a proper goodbye meant everything to Roger – he’d made that clear. Brian didn’t want to take that away from Roger, but he wasn’t sure he could bear to enter that room, and sit by Roger’s bedside, and knowingly have their last conversation. He couldn’t bring himself to do it.

“I can’t…” he repeated, tears starting to run down his face. He turned back sharply, forcing his arms from John’s grip. He began to exit the hallway, making way for the kitchen. There was a moment of deafening silence, where Brian thought that John had decided to let him be; but such silence didn’t last long.

“Brian!” John yelled, much louder than anyone had heard him speak in months. “I get this fucking sucks, and I get that you’re hurting. But while you’re out here feeling sorry for yourself, your boyfriend – Roger – the love of your life – he is dying; right here and right now. No amount of moping or crying or pacing in the hall is going to stop that; and if you don’t get your ass back in there, he is going to die alone – is that really what you want?” He monologued, his voice louder and oddly confident. _He is going to die alone – is that what you want?_ Of course it wasn’t, Brian thought. The idea of his precious Roger – the one person on earth who could make Brian forget about his plights, dying alone and scared made Brian’s heart rip in two.

“I just don’t think I can do it… watch him like that…” Brian sighed, bringing his large hands up in frustration, wiping his face of tears.

“But you can, Brian.” John said softly. “You think you can’t go in there and say goodbye… but you’ve been saying goodbye for years. I’ve watched you two – don’t think I haven’t noticed. The way you two talk about the future like its make-believe; or you always ending conversation with ‘I love you’; or even the way Roger stopped letting you get him birthday presents. You might not have even noticed yourselves, but you two have subconsciously been preparing for this for the last six years. It’s honestly been a bit depressing to watch…” John admitted. “You’ve known he’s going to go; you’ve prepared for it – not don’t let him die thinking you don’t love him with every single god damn part of you – because I know you do.” John whispered. Brian was now forcefully sobbing; he let out a shaky nod and wiped his tears again, taking a few deep breaths in order to stop himself from crying. Once he felt calm enough, Brian pushed past John and made his way into the bedroom. He sat beside Roger and grasped his hand, ready to say his goodbyes; but, Roger began making polite conversation. He talked about the band, their families, and the newest albums coming out. Brian was somewhat taken aback; he knew how much the ‘goodbyes’ meant to Roger, and he wasn’t saying a word of it. That’s when it hit Brian… Roger wanted to say goodbye just as much as Brian did – which was a hard zero percent. It made Brian feel a little better to know that Roger was putting off the inevitable just as he had been doing – in any other circumstances, he would have given John a hardy ‘I told you so’. Roger wasn’t saying goodbye, because saying goodbye brought truth and reality to the situations – and Roger clearly wanted to pretend for a little bit longer.

Roger talked for hours; his voice becoming more and more hoarse. It reached a point where Roger would have to take small breaks in between topics to rest his voice before he went off on some other tangent. As the night progressed, the breaks got longer and the conversations got shorter, to the point that Brian wasn’t sure that Roger could talk if he tried. In fact, as the late hours of the evening approached, Roger was becoming unresponsive all together. It made Brian’s heart beat at a million miles an hour; the way his eyes were glazed and his gaze not placed on anything in particular. If it weren’t for John sitting on the other side of the bed, staring them both down, he wouldn’t have put it past himself to do a cowardice runner. As 11:00pm approached, Brian could no longer silence his messy brain; he had to do what he’d come in the bedroom to do before it was too late – he wasn’t going to let Roger down.

  
“Rog; you don’t have to answer. Just, let me know if you can hear me…” Brian said softly. He waited a few seconds, unsure if the lack of response was due to Roger’s inability to operate his body, or if he genuinely couldn’t hear him. Just as Brian was about to abandon the idea of pressing on, he heard John let out a muffled cough, appearing to clear his throat.

“He’s- he’s squeezing my hand.” John whispered; Brian could hear the tears in his voice. He couldn’t quite work out what state John was in – whether the fact that Roger could still hear them brought him joy in these dark hours, or if he was choking back cries as the inevitable approached. Brian nodded slowly at John, as the younger back gestured his head in a way to get Brian to continue talking.

“Roger… baby.” Brian whispered, his calloused thumb running circles over Roger’s cold hand. “I just want you to know how much I love you – I know you know.” He mumbled, eye fixing on John as he slowly stood up, giving Brian’s shoulder a gentle squeeze as he exited the room. Brian remained silent for a little while after John left – now that it was just him and Roger, he could say anything; and that’s what scared him. “I’m going to miss you…” Brian muttered, this breathing shaky. “You’ve been a part of my life for like… 25 years now… you’re practically a part of the furniture – like… mental wallpaper.” Brian whispered, his fingers travelling up Roger’s arm to pitter-patter at his shoulder. “I wouldn’t take back one second – not for anything in the world.” Brian grinned, his face becoming hot as tears made themselves known. “You’re- you’re the most important person to me – you’ve made me who I am.” Brian muttered, now crying quite profusely; he could feel the embarrassment and sorrow rising in his chest. “I know… I know you don’t believe in soulmates… But, I do... I think we are. I hope… that in another lifetime… I can find you again. Shouldn’t be too hard, I suppose – I’ve been like a magnet to you all these years.” Brian whispered, chuckling inaudibly under his breath. He glanced up at Roger; he was looking at him with a sad expression, which Brian took as a sign he understood what Brian was saying. “God, I’m almost glad you can’t answer back right now. You’d be telling me I’m spouting shit. ‘You’ve always got your head in the sky – it’s ‘cause you’re too tall.’” Brian said, as if he was Roger, before letting out a soft chuckle. He could see Roger’s expression shift slightly, his lips curling up just enough to suggest a smile. It was good enough for Brian. “See, I know you that well that I even know how you’re gonna make fun of me.” Brian laughed, his hand snaking into Roger’s hair. He gently ran his fingers through Roger’s locks, twisting them gently and letting himself get lost silently in Roger – like old times; they could spend hours like this, just mindless fiddling with each other. It was something John and Freddie had often teased them about; the way that hours could pass without a single sound, but they’d enter the room to find Brian and Roger ‘pretzelled’ into one being, as if they’d been playing Twister on the sofa. After all those moments over the years, entwined in one another, this moment too felt just as normal. Deep down, Brian knew it wasn’t – but he was content pretending for the moment. He slowly let his gaze shift from Roger, to around at the room, stopping at the figure leaning in the doorway. It was John, wearing the sickliest sweet and genuine smile Brian had seen on the man in what he dared say had been years.

“Why don’t- I think you should jump into bed with him? Make it super cozy.” John suggested with the tiniest of grins on his face. Brian nodded and stood, hesitantly peeling back the blanket to crawl into their bed beside Roger. He placed his long arm behind Roger’s head, holding his side gently. He could no longer see Roger’s face, but judging by John’s expression it was probably a good thing – he wore the most sorrowful look on his face. It didn’t take long before he ripped his eyes to the floor.

“I- I’ll give you two a few minutes…” John murmured before turning to exit the bedroom.

“Deaky!” Brian called, loud enough that the man could hear, but as quiet as possible to not disturb Roger. John turned on his heels to look back at Brian, cocking an eyebrow as a way of suggesting he was listening. “Thanks for sticking around.” Brian whispered, a mix between a smile and a grimace on his face. John gave him a short nod and looked towards Roger, who blinked slowly at him, his breathing even more labored. He looked longer than he should have at his suffering friend. But knowing that it was likely the last he’d see Roger in a living capacity – if one could even call it that – he struggled to tear his eyes away. It was only when he was felt himself begin to get carried away with thoughts of the two younger men in their youths that he had to look away – for his own good. Without acknowledging either of them again, he turned on his heels and exited the bedroom. Once John was out of sight, Brian glanced down at Roger, seeing his head moving slightly with each upheaved breath. “You did it, Rog.” Brian whispered, moving his large hand to rub Roger’s back gently. “You said all your goodbyes – you don’t have to hold on anymore.” He mumbled, willing himself not to cry. “You don’t have to be scared – Fred’s waiting for you.” Brian ran his hand down Roger’s back and under his shirt, wanting to feel his skin, as warm as it would ever be again. “I’ll see you later – one day.” Brian whispered, his bottom lip now quivering hard. “I love you.” He mumbled, and for the first time in the 15 years they’d been together, he knew he wouldn’t get a reply – he would have given anything to hear Roger say that he loved him one last time. Just as his shoulders were starting to shake with sobs, he felt a gentle weight hit his shoulder. He looked down to see Roger’s head softly placed on his shoulder, the man’s breathing becoming further and further apart, and his eyes fluttering at a mid-point between open and closed. Brian craned his neck down to him, using his free hand to support Roger’s head as he brushed his lips gently against his boyfriend’s. He pulled back as he and Roger looked at each other – he could see the wetness in Roger’s eyes and he knew that if were any more conscious of the situation, he’d be crying. Brian – with all of his might – held back his tears and lent down one more time, to give the love of his life one last kiss. As he connected their lips carefully, he felt the slightest bit of pressure as Roger’s lips twitched. He pulled back with the saddest smile – one so sad it radiated in his extremities. “Goodbye, Roger; sleep well.” He whispered as he returned himself to a properly seated position, his free hand now running gentle lines through Roger’s thin blonde locks. He got his ‘I love you too,’. One last kiss; and it was enough – enough to keep him together as he heard Roger’s jagged and staggered breaths come to a slow halt; as he watched the small man’s chest stop rising and falling; and as he slowly felt his lover’s head become heavier on his shoulder. But, he didn’t cry – because Roger loved him, and that was enough; it would always be enough for Brian.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy shit - I have never written a paragraph that long! Sorry it took longer than expected; it was written but then I just kept adding little bits to it. Anyway, this is very much the penultimate chapter - sort of what it's all been leading up to. Please let me know what you think of this chapter; I really did pour my heart and soul into and definitely cried while writing it haha. The final chapter is sort of an epilogue type dealio, but ti still has a lot of 'tug at your heartstrings' kind of stuff - as well as like, a cute little extra bit. I tossed up between uploading that bit at the same time, but I think I'm going to wait. So, the last chapter might be up in a few hours or in the next day :) Thanks always for the support - let me know not only what you thought, but also maybe what kind of story you might like to see next, because I am now completely out of chapters to write :(


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The aftermath of Roger's death, and his true final goodbye in the form on an epilogue.

**Epilogue**

****  
_It is with heavy hearts that we announce the passing of beloved Queen drummer, Roger Taylor. Roger passed away peacefully in the late hours of Monday the 2nd, due to AIDS related complications. Our thoughts are extended to Roger’s family, as well as fans of Queen across the world, who we know will be devastated by the news. We ask that in light of the largely distressing months previous, that you can all grant us a little bit of privacy as we undertake a considerable hiatus from the public eye. We love you all; thank you for the many years of support._  
\- Brian May and John Deacon, on behalf of Queen

The news spread like wildfire; every television channel, radio station, news outlet, magazine or newspaper stand was covering the tragedy. Brian couldn’t bear to listen to any of it – all full of crap, he thought. Speculation was rife that Freddie and Roger had been together in secret, leading to them both contracting the disease. It wasn’t so much the suggestions that they were together that made Brian’s blood boil – he knew with absolute certainty it to be untrue. It was the way the articles spoke about them, as if they were sex fiends and drug addicts. Not a single article or report talked about how talented they both were – how they worked to move mountains in music, or how they made up 50% of the most popular rock band of the 70s and 80s.

They had had a small funeral, just Brian, John, Veronica and the kids, Jim, and Roger’s immediate family. Brian could see how the whole affair was destroying Roger’s mother – unsure herself of which tabloids to believe and which to disregard – left completely in the dark about what had truly happened to her son. Brian wanted nothing more than to hold her close and tell her that Roger had died happy, in Brian’s arms – where he had spent every night for the last 15 years – also happy. But, he didn’t; he gave her a gentle hug and muttered solemn pleasantries after the service, before returning to his singularity in the corner.

Only a week after the funeral, Brian and John decided to appear to the public to give word on the last few months. It had been suggested by Jim, mostly as a means of hopefully removing some of the gross speculation and awful rumors surrounding their deaths. Brian and John had agreed that it was necessary, the hearsay becoming more and more vile as the days went on. John had initially refused to appear on television, stating he would attend and remain off camera for moral support. 

“Please, John. I can’t go out there and pretend like I didn’t bury the love of my life a week ago. I know this is hard on you. I know you just want to get away from it all. Just, do this with me, and I won’t ever bother you again. After this all dies down, it is me against the world. I need you right now. Please.”

John had been reluctant at first, but as they sat there for the interview, he sensed the way every question was met with dread from Brian, and to everyone’s – even John him self’s – shock; John spoke so candidly about the two men, that Brian himself had to contain the tears. 

“Yes, well… we’re here today as it has been quite distressing to read some of the reports in the press. I tell you, we do feel absolutely bound to stick up for them, because they can’t stick up for themselves anymore.” John uttered solemnly 

The tabloids pressed on, camped outside Brian’s flat or continuing to print flat out lies about the two of them. Brian couldn’t take much more of it, retreating into his flat for days at a time, the only contact a daily checkup from Jim and the occasional phone call from John. Brian had thought that the days immediately following Roger’s death were going to be the hardest, but sensed as they approached that the lonely months ahead of him were going to be dreadfully unbearable. At least in the short days after, he had been surrounded by people – fans and other celebrities giving John and Brian their condolences, only to return to their lives largely unaffected after. Brian, on the other hand, after the hysteria had calmed, was left with a lonesome and aching feeling; one he figured he shared only with John at this point. One, he began to fear might never go away. It became harder and harder to get out of bed every day – and sometimes Brian simply wouldn’t. He reached a point almost a year later, where he thought deeply about whether a fate existed that was less painful than living.

**_____________**

**April 16th, 1993**

He was finally cleaning out the apartment. It had taken Brian over a year to work up the courage to even look at the piles of Roger’s things without becoming anything more than a sobbing mess. Brian would be lying if he said he hadn’t felt lost over the last year. John had long disappeared to be with his family, and Brian was feeling marginally isolated from the rest of the world – but, in some respects, it was the space he needed. He had been able to process all his feelings about losing Roger without distractions of others taking pity in him. In the end it had been rather beneficial that no word had been said regarding Roger and Brian’s relationship; because, while it still hurt tremendously to lose a bandmate, Brian felt like he may not have received any such peace and quiet had they revealed their relationship to the world. At the same time, it made it difficult – it was hard to explain to people why he needed to grieve the way he did, or why he got choked up in interviews in a way that John didn’t. Maybe that was why it had taken him a year to clean out the apartment, because he hadn’t had the chance to verbalize to anyone how much he was truly hurting at the loss of his boyfriend. He had been in a dark place; many a night stood staring into the bathroom mirror and seeing someone he didn’t recognize staring back. He wasn’t sure at what point he had woken up with gusto, and why today was any different; but today, he was doing it – cleaning out the apartment before the is crippling depression forced him back into bed. He was cleaning up the stacks of paper on their coffee table. It was a mess of newspapers, magazines and song lyrics. He read over Roger’s lyrics, the grin on his face trying its best to push back the tears. He placed them carefully on the kitchen table to make sure they didn’t get thrown away. As he picked up a book he’s started a while ago, but never finished, an envelope fell out. He picked it up and saw scrawled on the front in Roger’s handwriting: ‘Bri’. He held his breath and felt a strange tingle all over his body. He wasn’t entirely sure he wanted to read it, but he found his hands autonomously opening the envelope, regardless. He slowly lowered himself to the couch, figuring he should probably be sitting down and started to read.  
_  
January 17th, 1992_

_Dear Brian,_

_I am writing this letter to you because, despite how much I want a final goodbye with everyone – I know, with absolute certainty, that when the time comes, I will not be able to look you in the eyes and say goodbye to you. I know that when I look at you and your stupid poodle hair and long face that makes me melt, that I will not be able to commit to a final conversation with you, because it will hurt too much._

_I never thought I’d be writing this letter. You’re far older than me and are practically a dinosaur already. Then again, you don’t party nearly as much as I do and you eat much better - stupid vegetarian! You also didn’t insist on a shot of liquor before every show, which in the hindsight I now have was such a terrible idea and I blame you all for allowing me to do it._

_Nevertheless, I never intended on writing a letter like this to you – or to anyone for that matter. It’s crazy how invincible you feel in your twenties and thirties – what bullshit. I felt I needed to write this to you because I really wanted a proper goodbye. I know you’ve said a million times that everyone knows how much I love them and that they love me – and I do know. But, I couldn’t help but think that in the months and years after I’ve gone you’ll probably have days where it’s harder to remember. I worry that in decades to come, when I’m long gone, that the memories of our years together will begin to blur. So, I’m writing this letter as a reminder of how I feel about you now – how I would have continued to feel about you every day as we grew older together – had the circumstances been different._

_I love you._

_I really do. I know sometimes you worried that you stopped me from being the promiscuous person that I was in my twenties and that for some reason, I harbour resentment towards you for that. But, I assure that not the entirety of my twenties will ever be nearly as amazing as one night with you. I promise._

_I really want you to be happy - even if it’s without me. Promise me you’ll find someone - that you’ll find the one person that lights a fire in you. Like I know we do with each other. Someone that you want to throttle sometimes - I’m sure it’s kept you young all these years. Find the one that loves listening to you talk about space and the stars as much as I do - I always have, even if I pretend I don’t. Find the person who will be just as in awe of your guitar playing as I have been this whole time. I hope – honestly – that you find the perfect person and have the kids you’ve always wanted – you’ll make the most amazing father. I hope you’ll tell them about me – when the time is right, of course. Tell them about us and what we had, and how the universe had other plans; and, as bitter as those plans may have been, that they led you to a new happiness. Hopefully when that time comes, the world will be a different place; a world in which you and I could have lived out our days untroubled and open – so totally in love, and equally as careless._

_Thank you for the best years of my life. Not just as my boyfriend and best friend - but as my bandmate. Queen is the best thing that has ever happened to me, and it’s all because of you. Thank you for seeing something in me and letting me be a part of this. I’m glad that if my life has been cut short, that at least I’ve led a life worth living. I wouldn’t trade it for anything. Not even if it meant getting rid of the long studio sessions or the fights. I wouldn’t trade all these years with you assholes for anything in the world. I mean it._

_I know the last couple years have been really hard for you - the last few months especially. I’m sorry for putting you through that. It took a while for me to realise how much this hurt you - especially considering you’re being left behind. It might not have seemed like it, but I really tried to be strong. I tried to keep fighting until the very end, just like Freddie did. And I hope I did him proud. I hope I did everyone proud. I know I’ve always been the run amok, and the handful, and the loose cannon. But, I hope somewhere along the way that you, and Freddie, and Deaky could have said you were proud of me - warts and all. Because I love you all. And I always will. We’ll always be Queen - the four of us._

_What I wouldn’t have given for once more with you all. Once more of everything. One more gig, one more song, even one more fight with Freddie about something ridiculous. More than that, I don’t know what I’d give for one more day with you. One more hug, or kiss, one more lazy Sunday morning, or quiet Friday night. If someone asked me if I wanted to go back and do it again. I would. This time around I’d savour every second. I’d savour our first kiss like it’d be our last and I’d never let a moment with you go to waste._

_Truthfully Bri, if things were different; if we lived in a different time. I’d have married you already. Years ago, even. I know I’ve always said I don’t believe in all that crap – and maybe I still don’t; but, I think we’re soulmates; and maybe not even in the romantic way... just in the way that we’re two people that fit so perfect with one another that it’s never felt out of place. And it never has. Talking to you, and playing with you, and being with you has been the easiest thing I’ve ever done. Everything to do with you has been easy - right up until now, when it’s time to leave you._

_But, I’m never far away. I promise. If you really listen, you can hear me drumming. Always. You can probably also hear Freddie and I fighting from wherever we are, but I hope that’s not too loud that it keeps you up at night._

_Writing this letter has been on my mind for a while now, but it’s been making me so nervous that I’ll forget to include something important and you won’t truly know everything I want to say. I know that you know how much I love you, and I’m sure deep down you already know how to say all the things I can’t quite articulate in this letter - you’re the smart one after all. But, above all, I hope more than anything, that you know how good you’ve done. In Queen, at the guitar – sure; you’re great. But, I mean at making me feel like I’m living a brand new and exciting life. As miserable as some of the days have been – especially since Freddie’s passing, you’ve never made me feel anything but warm and all lovey-dovey inside. Not once in the last six year – or in the last fifteen – have I looked at you and not felt like every single piece of me was alive – on fire in the absolute best way. You’ve made every minute of every day worth living – even if I’ve really been dying this whole time. So, that’s all I really wish for you, Bri. We’re all dying, right? So, you better go out there every day and live. Live enough every day that you’re living for the both of us; because you know I’ll always be there._

_All the love in the world, and beyond;_  
Until we meet again,  
Roger.  


Brian sighed a shaky breath and leant his head back against the couch, trying with all his might to stop the tears from escaping. The silence in the apartment meant he could hear his heartbeat loud and clear. That’s when Brian realised; there it was - Roger drumming... always.

**_____________**

It truly did take years; it took years for Brian to start to wake up without a constant ache, deep within him. It never completely went away – but it began to be quiet enough that Brian could ignore it. But with the words of Roger radiated through him – _live enough every day that you’re living for the both of us_ – he managed to try living again. He threw himself back into his studies; he met a wonderful woman and got married and had children. Years down the track, he told her about the life he and Roger had shared for so long; it felt like a weight had been lifted after all those years. Not once did he shy away from telling his kids about their Uncle Roger; he told them about the shenanigans Roger and Freddie would pull, but how things would have been mundane without them. The kids loved to hear his stories: ‘I wish I could have met him,’ ‘He seems so cool,’ ‘It sounds like you two really cared about each other, dad.’ It made Brian’s heart sing; and while the tabloids were painting Roger’s legacy in one way – the promiscuous party boy with an appetite for women, Brian felt he was shaping Roger’s legacy in a way that he’d be proud of – in a way that really mattered.

By all accounts of the outside world – he had successfully moved on after the passing of his two best friends. But, they’d never know. Days came and went where Brian thought about telling everyone – about admitting to their life together – but every time he got close enough for it to threaten reality, something pulled him back. He thought about the years of unspoken words communicated in packed rooms, or stolen glances across rooms of people who would never be any the wiser. He thought about how he and Roger had successfully lived in their own world for 15 years, and were blissfully happy, because no one could have hearsay. Brian didn’t want that to go away. Even with Roger gone, they’d have plenty to report on – more rumors and requests for comment. Brian didn’t think he could handle it. Telling the world with Roger still here was one thing – one thing they’d even talked about – because they could do it together, and lord knows any criticisms would have been met with Roger’s temper. But, without him, Brian feared telling the world might see him drowned in their harsh words and insistent badgering. He was content for that life with Roger to be something he cherished in his lonesome. 

Brian had decided years ago – amidst the chaos of Roger and Freddie’s later lives that he hated silences – and would forever more. But, he didn’t hate them anymore; not one bit. In fact, silences were Brian’s favourite moments, now. Silence was when the world was still and he could close his eyes and hear his heart beating like the most wonderfully rhythmic drum beat he’d ever heard. In silence, he could be with Roger – relaying soft-spoken nonentities into the nothingness that enveloped him in a protected hug. He knew Roger was watching – and he hoped Roger knew that every day, Brian got up and lived for him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's officially over now - all fifteen chapters done; I'm going to miss it :( 
> 
> Thank you to everyone that has read, left kudos or commented on this story; it means so much, and I have put some much love into these chapters. Please let me know what you think of the final product, and what you might want to see next, considering I no longer have anything to right. 
> 
> Again, thanks and much love


End file.
